Return :: Rewrite
by Besieged Infection
Summary: AU Demyx had fallen in love twice in his High School career. The first time around facts had been skewed; and mistakes were made. The second time he was face to face with a rebellion of remnant science experiments out to "reshape" the world.
1. Freaks

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: Nudity, references to sex, and mild violence.**_

…

**Chapter One**

…

All was quiet, clean, and orderly in the small locker room. Not-quite-neon-blue tiles lined the walls and floors were polished to perfection; red lockers were neatly arranged in rows one atop the other into orderly aisles, and a communal shower of the same not-quite-neon-blue tiles was mold free- the entirety of which were untouched by graffiti and vandalism, sans a small series of scratches on one particular locker proclaiming that at one point someone had considered themselves important enough to proclaim that they had been there, though the name had faded with age. Nearly every inch of the area looked new, and only the light cracks in the paint upon the lockers gave any implication that the area hadn't been updated in years. Off to the side, towels were neatly stacked in open cubbies, clean and without any trace of grime. Clearly, whoever used the room took great care. The air held a tinge of an unpleasant odor, proving that the space was in use, though by whom was still up for discussion.

Without warning, the space seemed to burst with nearly two dozen teenagers, presumably students considering they all wore the same uniform black shorts and gray shirt ensemble. They chatted amicably with each other as they stripped down before their peers without shame, tossing their uniforms to the floor before their lockers and filing into the showers to wash away the sweat dotting their bodies. Despite their copious numbers, the room was nearly as silent as it had been before their arrival; even their steps were nearly soundless as the entire group expressed a grace not usually present in teens. The only true source of sound came from the showers, which spray a fine mist over the teen's bodies. Both males and females stood under the spray, whispering about that day's physical education class without bothering to glance at each others' nude figures. There was no sexual tension; merely an unspoken undercurrent of respect evident to all who looked closely upon the spectacle.

And it truly was a spectacle.

Some washed long, canine tails with care, taking precautions so they didn't push the fur the wrong way, and others took files to talons that adorned their hands in sets of threes or fours instead of finger nails. Others offered friends special brushes to wash the scales on their backs. Some of them shared colorization or characteristics, green scales or fleshy pointed ears, though some were one of a kind among the group. However, they all had a few things in common. For one, not a single one was over five feet tall; for another, they all had relatively the same build- all bones and lithe muscle that wouldn't count for much.

One particular boy, around the age of fifteen, carefully worked shampoo around pointed lavender ears, not unlike those of a cat. A matching lavender tail sprouted delicately from just below the dip of his back, and soap suds did not slide across his body as it usually would for others. Instead, it chose to catch on a fine sheen of gray fur dusting the entirety of his body. Like the others, he was all lean muscle, thin as could be.

Washing the remaining suds from his fur, he turned to a small raven-haired girl who appeared to be nearly a year older than him, and she had no special characteristics visible other than her body appearing malnourished with her ribs standing in clear relief from the rest of her body, her hip jutting out from beneath the skin. There were no claws, scales, or extra appendages anywhere on her body. She simply sat on the tiles beside him, face void of any expression, almost literally skin and bones, allowing the water to soak her form. Her arms were limp at her sides, and her skin was nearly translucent, betraying light blue veins just below the surface. Hands and feet appearing too large for her body rest upon the tiles, almost as if they belonged to someone else.

"Xion," he observed quietly, "you should go get dressed before you collapse again." The girl looked up to him then, and nodded.

"Help," she whimpered, raising one arm as if it was all she could manage. Complying, the boy bent to collect the girl from the tiles, tugging her bridal-style into his arms, knowing he wouldn't have managed the feat were she anyone else. Light as a feather, she very nearly floated in his arms as he brought her to a locker to one side of the room. There, he carefully set her against it, unlatching the metal door before drying her off with a towel taken from the nearby cubbies. He pressed the cotton delicately to her flesh, almost as if he feared breaking her.

"You're cold," he noted, moving from her arms to her torso. His hands did not linger along her breasts or sides; simply moved along them as if they were nothing. "Colder than usual, I mean," he clarified upon receiving an odd look from the girl.

"I get my transfusion this afternoon," she announced quietly, earning a miniscule grin from the boy above her.

Moving onto her legs, the boy gently turned the girl to get a better angle to dry her backside, as well. "That's good," he mused. "Can you stand?" The girl nodded, allowing the boy to help her to her feet. Rubbing the rest of her dry, he placed it across the girl's hair before retrieving his own towel. Moving to another locker, he quickly ran the material along his body as the other teens filed from the showers, filling the room with quiet conversations and the like. Finishing his legs, he massaged his hair dry before unlatching the lock upon the metal door, tugging his clothes from within and placing his P.E. clothes draped upon the floor carefully within the locker.

A black tee slid to snugly fit his torso as he pulled it over his hair and down his body before he slipped a pair of boxers on, closely followed by a pair of jeans, high enough to cover what mattered by low enough to allow his tail free-reign over the space behind him. There it curled and uncurled at random increments despite his insistence for it to remain still. He glanced over to Xion, who was now being doted upon by a girl who was obviously related to her. Their faces were identical, though this new girl's hair was a subdued mane of red feathers, and in place of hands she had a set of talons. Looking around the locker room, the boy observed the _other_ trait that was present in every person there.

Many of them shared the exact shade of not-quite-neon-blue eyes, and those who did not wore piercings on some parts of their bodies. Reaching one hand up, the boy with ears much like a cat felt at the furred appendage for the familiar feel of steel. There it was; that comforting loop.

Socks came on, then shoes, and his gym shoes were stored into the locker beside the tee and shorts as he slipped a messenger bag around his shoulders. A bell rang, prompting a crowd by the door that had been steadily growing to file out of the room, the boy among them, and into the mess that was a high school hallway.

"Freaks," a voice rang out among the crowd of humans spilling from their own locker. It was the first rock of the day, that word. Other voices soon joined theirs, shouting for the group to go home and kill themselves. Humans jeered at them from all angles as they dispersed through the hallways. Yet, the boy with the cat-like ears stayed in place beside the door, waiting.

"Filthy animals!"

"Go home, you lousy freaks!"

"Leave us be, you stupid Hybrids." Yes- Hybrids; that's what they, the humans, called them.

"Good morning, Zexion," a blond boy announced, stepping up beside the teen with cat-like ears. The human towered over him by a shocking eight inches, but he wasn't intimidating at all with his flat expression and all-angle physique. Sharp elbows stuck out from a band tee, too-thin legs left skinny-jeans baggy, and pointed facial features didn't seem to fit with the boy, yet it worked in some odd way. He also seemed older by at least a year, maybe two, and carried himself with a calm sense of self-assurance. Among all the angles and corners of the boy's body, eyes of the softest, deepest blue imaginable stared out at the world, half-hooded in fatigue. He yawned.

"Good morning, Demyx," the smaller boy replied, brushing the sheet of bangs from his right eye to get a good look at his friend. Almost as if out of nowhere, the blond brought a camera up and snapped a picture of Zexion.

"December thirteenth," he narrated quietly as he saved the picture. "Part one." He grinned big, then; it was a smile the smaller boy usually saw when they were in company that nearly split Demyx's face in two. Running a hand through his hair, a shaggy array of blond spiked up only at the very top and allowed to hang down lazily everywhere else, he heaved a heavy sigh. "Let's get to class, shall we?" Zexion nodded, following behind the taller teen with practiced ease as they made their way through the crowd of students.

Many wondered how they were friends, one being a Hybrid and the other a human, but it was really quite simple. To the blond, Zexion wasn't just some "Hybrid." No- he was just Zexion. Not "freak," not "animal," and definitely not "Hybrid." Zexion was Zexion, just as Demyx was Demyx. That's all there was to it. There wasn't some higher level of understanding or picturesque childhood promise to remain friends throughout their entire lives. In fact, they had only met a few months before.

Something just worked with them.

**...**

Lunch was a quiet affair. All the Hybrids, and a select few humans, sat around a tree in the school's courtyard to eat. No one talked, and the only true activity was that of Demyx taking pictures at random of people, flowers, and clouds.

Zexion lay down in the grass, staring up at the sky, the remains of his lunch tossed in a nearby trash bin. His coat bunched around his arms, revealing his wrists to the cold December air before he tugged it into place. Collapsing back into his previous spot, he stared into the gray sky. It would snow, soon. That was for sure. A light flashed, followed by the click and whir of an old, beaten up digital camera. Soon after that, Demyx plopped himself beside the smaller boy, looking into the preview box on the device. He wore no coat, and his jeans weren't good for cold weather, but he radiated heat in almost uncomfortable amounts. Beneath him, the ice clinging to the lawn began to thaw.

"What do you think?" he inquired, angling the camera so Zexion could see the picture. The first thing the smaller teen noted was that there was no color in the photo, and the grass seemed a little fuzzy.

After a minute, he replied, "If you really want to know, I think the positioning is poor."

The blond blinked at this, eyes flicking to the image to study it before grunting an affirmative. "You're right," he mused, bringing it closer to his face. "I shouldn't have gone for such a steep angle…" He went silent after this exchange, fiddling with his camera. "Hey, Zexion," he began, voice cracking ever so slightly, "do you want to come over after school?" Demyx bit his lip upon saying this, not daring to look at his friend.

"I can't," the boy replied without hesitation. "I have to run some errands for Dad, later."

"Oh…" he sighed, turning his eyes to the grass at his feet. Leaping up, he made his way to the rest of the group, taking pictures of some of the others. The cat-eared Hybrid noted how the others of his kind shied away from the human, grimacing when he asked for a smile, turning their backs to the camera at the last minute.

"Not many humans would risk it," Xion mused, carefully lowering herself to the ground beside Zexion, "social exile."

He turned to her with a look of question. "What brought this on?"

"You don't know much about him," she began, ignoring his inquiry. "Do you know why we don't trust him?"

Zexion rolled his eyes. "He's human, Xion. It's natural," he drawled, heaving a sigh.

"If it were natural then you wouldn't trust him, either," she noted, looking off into the distance. Her fingers inched down to the hem of her dress, tugging idly at the blue fabric. The piece barely came down to her knees, and from there stockings continued on to cover the rest of her legs. A heavy black winter coat with faux fur lining engulfed her upper body, making her thinness almost indiscernible. If it weren't from the way her boots were too large for her ankles one would think her a human.

But she wasn't.

"What are you getting at?" he growled, taking the girl by surprise.

"You didn't know him last year like we did."

"Is that why I can't be his friend?" he snipped.

"He's not the type to risk exile over someone who's just a friend, Zexion- I don't think camaraderie is all he's after." Silence followed this statement. "Zexion, I think-"

"You've thought enough." Jumping to his feet, the Hybrid began to make his was across the school lawn, ice crunching beneath his boots.

To Zexion it didn't matter if he hadn't known Demyx the year before- he still knew the boy better than the others.

…

A bitter, frigid breeze greeted Demyx as he stepped out into the afternoon air, making his way over to his car; a blue truck that had a number of words written into the side with permanent markers. Some were large, some a bold red, declaring someone had been there. Some were in the blond's own untidy scrawl. A few were faded, and only a handful looked somewhat new, and nearly half were crossed out. Several were only partially blocked out, and a number of them were completely blotted out. But mostly, it was the faded ones that had been marked out of existence- the older ones.

The truck's frame was beaten, the paint was peeling, and it was impossible to tell what kind of model it was, but upon Demyx opening the door and sliding in it was revealed that the interior was well taken care of. Leather seats were hole-free and clean of stains, bread crumbs, and marker, as were the floors. Sunglasses sat above the driver's seat, a map of "Radiant Garden County" in the side compartment, and a well-kept tape player in the dashboard. Placing his key in the ignition, the blond started up the car, pressing "play" on the tape player. Static filled the space before the gentle voice of a nameless Indie band's lead singer floated through the speakers, closely followed by light piano trills and rhythmic guitar. Reaching forward, he turned the knob until the music was just barely in the background.

Maneuvering from his parking spot, Demyx carefully directed the car towards the school's front door just in time to catch Zexion stepping from the entrance. Breaking into a smile, he waved to the boy when his eyes lighted upon the dilapidated truck. Clutching his messenger bag to his front, the Hybrid weaved through the students waiting for their rides, dodging around others walking briskly up the hill towards the busses. With a practiced flip of his arm, his bag fell into the truck-bed with a dull _thump_ just before he slowly entered the car.

There was a flash. "Rough day, huh?" the blond asked, saving the picture. "December thirteenth, part two," he whispered.

"Just go," the Hybrid all but hissed. Not needing to be told twice, Demyx pocketed the camera and drove off. A few minutes later, Zexion sighed. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize," the taller boy replied. "Does this have to do with what Xion said to you at lunch?" he asked, glancing over just in time to witness Zexion flinch. "What'd she say?"

"She said a lot of things."

"You're avoiding the question."

"No, I'm not."

"What did she say?" the blond shouted. "It was about me, wasn't it? Tell me!"

Zexion looked to Demyx in shock, took in how his jaw was clenched, how his hands turned white on the steering wheel. Despite the obvious signs of anger his eyes were completely void of emotion, though they held a hint of what seemed to be _guilt_. A few minutes passed, and before either of them could speak they had pulled up to the Hybrid's house- a two-story green house with an unkempt yard and a tire-swing hanging from a large oak tree. Stepping from the car, the Zexion slammed the door, snatching his bag up from the truck-bed and making his way towards the house.

Demyx rolled the window down, then, calling out to him. "I'm sorry!" Zexion turned, facing the blond with an incredulous look. "It's your business, not mine." He paused for a second. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe," was all he got before the other retreated inside, slamming the house's door with grim finality.

It was better than nothing, at least.

With a sigh, Demyx steered his truck in the direction of home, and after a few minutes of driving he arrived before a place where the word 'house' did not apply. Calling to the gate guard, the blond steered through the wrought-iron bars and began up the hill towards the sprawling mansion. The truck, dilapidated as it was, looked as out of place before the manor as it possibly could, but Demyx didn't care. Stuffing his keys in his pocket the blond jogged to the double doors of the mansion, pushing one open, he shouted his arrival into the echoing foyer.

"Welcome back, Demyx," a voice said from behind him. He jumped, turning to face a woman around the age of twenty sitting beside the door, lazily twirling a set of keys about her fingers before pocketing them. "What? No hello?"

"You startled me," he reasoned, sparing his sister a smile. "Welcome home, sis."

She laughed, a cruel sound, tossing her head of platinum-blonde hair back as she let loose the screech-like noise. In this movement she bared a set of fangs, sharp and deadly, from behind her lips. "'Sis?' You're still unusually sentimental- we're not even _related_," she scoffed, moving forward to poke his chest. "You've gotten taller," she noted, looking him up and down.

"Are you sure you just haven't gotten shorter?" he joked.

"Yes- all that human oppression can get heavy after a bit."

Demyx's expression turned dark. "That's not funny."

"What? You still trying to stop it?" she hissed, fixing the taller boy with a look to melt glass.

Walking past her, the younger sibling made his way to the stairs. "And what if I am?"

"It's you against the world, Demyx," she laughed, malice lacing her words. Looking him up and down again, she sniffed, "and like it or not you used to be _part_ of that world." Racing up the stairs, Demyx plugged his ears in an attempt to block out the sound of his sister's high-pitched laughter. "You can't run from it forever!" she shouted after him. Once the boy was upstairs, the woman turned on her heel to face a man with skin fragments spiking out from his head in place of hair stepping through the door. He was obviously a Hybrid, but his height- nearly six feet- begged to differ. The woman grinned, stroking up his chest with one lazy finger. "Good thing he's on our side, right Marluxia?"

"It would be best if you did not antagonize him, Larxene," the man reprimanded. "Keep this up and, when the time comes, he _won't_ be on our side."

"I know," the woman replied with a scowl, eyes trained on the floor.

He reached down, then, clutching the woman's chin in a vice-grip in one hand, forcing her to look at him. "Do you?" he inquired, ignoring her gasps of pain as he began to lift her from the ground. "You better, or we're all _dead_." Then, on that note, he dropped her.

**…**

Rushing into his bedroom, Demyx clutched his head in fury. Inside, the walls were covered in thick, black curtains that choked the light from the room; the carpet was a deep blue, plushy fabric, and a high-quality desk. He slammed the door before locking it in haste. In a smooth, no doubt practiced move, the boy grabbed at the first set of curtains, yanking it aside, soon to be followed by the rest of them. Kicking his bed in irritation, the blond collapsed into a chair that sat before a desk where a rather impressive computer sat. There, he proceeded to gaze about the walls, each coated in pictures from what appeared to be different stages of his life. The first wall held pictures of Larxene from the ages five to about eight, and little else. Occasionally there would be a dark-haired woman with a slightly rounded face and a blond-haired man with a goatee, but those were few and far between. The second wall held pictures of landscapes, and rarely would there ever be a person in the photos.

Next there came a wall filled with many photos that had been crossed out with marker. There were lots of faces in these pictures, but nearly every one was blacked out. Some pictures were entirely colored in, a few had been torn, and in place of others there were scorch marks on the wall. Just barely, one could make out smiles and hugs behind the marker. People were happy, they got along, and a few of these pictures even involved Demyx himself. There was no Larxene, no landscapes, and no family members. Just Demyx and his friends, all crossed out and ripped. In a way, the wall was just like his car. And then there was the fourth wall.

Only partially filled, the fourth wall consisted of no cross outs, no family, and no Demyx. It consisted of only other people- Hybrids. However, the boy's eyes laid upon it the longest, tracing the figures of the smaller beings. His gazed upon their feathers, scales, ears, and tails with a blank expression. He traced them backwards along the wall until his eyes rest upon the third.

Standing abruptly, the teen reached for the curtains, drawing them over the photographs once more until the room was once again starved of light. With a sigh, Demyx stepped towards his computer, collapsing into the chair. The screen flicked on, prompting for voice recognition. "Arpeggio," he whispered into a mic set into the speakers.

"_Harmonious welcomes, Demyx_," the computer soothed, accented voice clicking from the speakers. "_Would it be music or photography today?_"

"Both, please," the boy groaned, reaching for the mouse. "Classical era and upload; connecting device now." Reaching into his pocket, the blond pulled out the camera before attaching it to a cord protruding from the computer.

"_Retrieving data, playing Vincent O'Donohue_," the computer intoned. Tender, slow music began to flow from the speakers, low enough so he could hear the computer's voice. "_How was your day, Demyx?_"

"Okay, I guess," Demyx sighed, reaching up with one hand to massage his forehead. "Zexion and I almost had a fight. I yelled at him."

"_That is not wise,_" it said, feminine intonations tripping over the pronunciation. "_He is special, is he not?_"

Demyx smiled. "You remembered."

"_My memory banks are in perfect condition. You are responsible for this._"

"Thanks anyway, Peggy."

"_It is my duty._"

The blond laughed. "When I say 'thank you' you're supposed to say 'you're welcome.'"

"_Yes, Demyx,_" the computer toned. A few seconds later, Arpeggio spoke again. "_When will I be able to meet Zexion?_"

"Soon, I hope," the blond chuckled. "When he doesn't have stuff to do after school for his dad he'll probably come."

A few seconds later, Arpeggio announced, "_Upload is complete, and there are upgrades available._"

"Hmm…" he mused, turning to the computer in surprise. "What sort of upgrades?"

"_Sound processing and A.I. comprehension,_" the choppy female voice announced.

Demyx smiled. "Get them." A few seconds later, Arpeggio announced the downloads to be complete, voice free of clicks and breaks for vowel selection. "You sound great, Peggy," the blond announced, grinning lightly.

"_Thank you, Demyx_," it replied.

"Hey, Peggy- you think I should do _that_, tomorrow?"

**…**

Adjusting his messenger bag's strap resting on his shoulder, Zexion trudged through the fresh layer of snow that had begun to pile upon the ground on his walk. His breath left wisps of vapor in a trail behind him as he shoved his hands deep within his pockets, staring straight at the ground as the tell tale _crunch_ beneath his boots betrayed that he was, indeed, still moving. Legs chilled, he could no longer feel his thighs or calves, relying on the steady pattern of footsteps to betray the fact that he wasn't frozen to the pavement. No one else was on the street as the powder fell quietly among the lanes. There wasn't enough snow to do anything with, and it was too cold to take a walk. Looking to his bag, Zexion accused it with his eyes. The muted _clink_ of wrapped glass could be heard from within, almost as if it were mocking him. _I cannot feel cold_, it said in its own form of Morse code. _You are freezing your butt off and I laugh at you!_

Heaving a sigh, Zexion kicked the snow. Much to his delight, it then flew across the pavement and into a mail box before sinking to the ground it a pile of white mush. Then, stretching his neck until he could see the sky, Zexion made believe he was a smoke-stack, breathing out at a constant rate as he watched the mist fall about his face. He faced forward, then, bringing one hand out of his pocket with a small device. Zexion flicked it open with one partially numb finger before staring at the blank screen.

"Power on," he whispered.

The display burst to life as a computerized voice stated, "_State your destination_."

Zexion paused and looked up before stating, "1342 Cloudborn Street."

"_Turn left_," the machine's monotonous voice box announced.

"I need to get you an upgrade," Zexion sighed.

Ten minutes later found the Hybrid standing before a modest brown house with blue shutters and an old-fashioned rock-wall between it and the world. The boy took a minute to admire the wall before stepping towards a stone path that led to the front door, rapping lightly upon the wood with numbed knuckles. A minute later, the door opened to reveal a human, blond with blue eyes and soft features.

"Can I help you?" the blond inquired, a puzzled expression taking place over his features.

"I'm here to see Dr. Crescent," Zexion calmly announced.

"Okay," the boy quietly uttered. Then, turning into the house, he bellowed, "Mom- someone's here for you!" before motioning for Zexion to come inside. Glad to be out of the cold, the Hybrid stepped in thankfully, and taking a seat next when he was offered one. The blond left, then, when a woman joined them. She was tall with long, brown hair and was easily the most beautiful woman Zexion had ever met.

"You must be Zexion!" she exclaimed joyously, clasping her hands behind her back. "Was your walk tolerable?"

"I have the shipment."

The brunette laughed, smiling in a way that nearly warmed the Hybrid's toes. "Mr. Kisaragi warned me about you- all business, no play." She sighed. "Come this way." She motioned for him to follow, leading him through the house, then down a staircase, and into a white room with surgical instruments and a table where Xion lay. "You have great timing- I was just about to begin the infusion and she could use some fresh Mako."

"Hi, Zexion," the girl gasped from the table, voice raw and broken.

"We're pushing it on the time. If the patrols hadn't increased when they did, we would have done the operation weeks ago," Dr. Crescent explained upon the boy's sharp glare. "She's in bad shape. P.E. was a bad idea."

"Where do I put these?" Zexion asked, opening his bag to reveal a faint blue glow.

Looking about the room, the woman's eyes landed on a table on the far side of the chamber. "Place them there- and be careful," she directed, pointing to the table. "You'll find an envelope there, too. It has the payment within, as promised. Hide it in the bottom of your bag and give it to your father."

Nodding, the Hybrid reached into his bag, placing glass containers of a glowing blue liquid on the table, careful as could be. He then snatched the envelope and slid it into a secret compartment in his bag inside the space-splitter, but not before checking the amount inside.

"20,000 Munny," he whispered to himself. "Good." He left, then, just as Dr. Crescent drew some of the Mako from one of the containers into a syringe and inserted it into Xion's arm.

**…**

"-so he's freaking out, the poor guy, until I placed a hand on his shoulder and said, 'This is the secret section- not the democratic party,'" a man joked, leaning expectantly over the table for laughter, only to be disappointed. The clock down the hall chimed five O'clock, the sound echoing along the length of the large room. The man, blond hair short and orderly with a neatly trimmed beard, leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

"We're not politicians, Luxord," Naminé deadpanned from beside him. "We don't understand these sort of jokes like your co-workers do."

"I know, honey," the blond man replied, voice even and deep. "So, who's enjoying the salad?" he asked, eying the other three at the table.

"It's good," Demyx mused, pushing the leaves around his plate. Larxene nodded her approval, though it was stiff and unwillingly done so.

"I concur," Marluxia announced from beside him, raising his glass to Naminé. "The figs make a good contrast with the Iceberg lettuce. Do you know who wrote the code?"

"Larxene wrote it, actually," Naminé giggled, looking to her daughter with pride. "I'm surprised you didn't know how talented she is with data. She's also unusually adept with Electronics!"

The man looked to Larxene with a twinkle in his eye, then, almost appraising. "Really?"

Things couldn't have been more awkward for Demyx. With every sugary-sweet line that sprouted from Marluxia's lips came some cold chill that curled around the blond's spine as if it were a rose-vine; a frozen rose vine. Something in the back of his head kept telling him that something was _fake_ about the way Marluxia was acting. Whenever Larxene said something about him she'd wince, and she wouldn't look at him straight. Then there was the forming bruise on her jaw- it hadn't been there when he'd seen her in the foyer.

Demyx glued his eyes to the table, then. The plates were clear crystal with dim lights set beneath each setting, illuminating their salads with a different color for each to tell the places apart. Demyx's light was blue, turning the Swiss atop his salad a not-quite-neon-blue that very much resembled the tiles in the Hybrid's locker room, though it wasn't blue enough. He pushed the noodle-like strip of cheese across his plate, soaking in the silence that had dominated the house the moment Larxene had gotten there.

"So how's school, Demyx?" Larxene inquired, superior grin firmly in place for the first time in what seemed to be hours. "Have you made any new friends?"

The comment sounded harmless, but there was something beneath the words that frightened Demyx. "Not really," he announced, "although I don't really hang out much with Hayner and them. We drifted apart."

"Is that so?" the woman gasped. "That's got to be hard on you- they've been your friends since elementary school, am I right?"

"They don't really like the idea of Hybrid equality," the boy snipped, getting the attention of everyone there. "You know this- why do you leave me alone about it?"

"Are you angry at me for knowing something about you or angry at yourself that you chose something unattainable?"

Marluxia stood up.

"I have something to announce," the man exclaimed, grinning big. It didn't escape Demyx's notice that Larxene seemed to cower before the man, almost as if she were afraid of what he was going to say, and how her usual grin was gone once more. Looking about the table, he seemed to search the eyes of their parents, almost as if daring them to fight what he was about to say. "Larxene and I are engaged." Silence ensued.

After a strained period of nothing, Naminé stood up, embracing the man. "That's wonderful news," she managed, unable to keep the distrust from her voice. Luxord stood, then, reaching forward to grasp hands with the other man.

"Take good care of my daughter," he warned.

They began to speak about dates, invitations, possible locations and other wedding things, then. Sitting through it, Demyx finished his food before excusing himself to his room.

…

Pulling up before Zexion's house, Demyx braced himself for the worst. Parking, he nearly leapt from his car before racing up the steps to the boy's front door. Half-way up the step, he stopped.

_Unattainable…_

Larxene's words from the night before still stung. Shaking his head clear, he continued on. He stalled a bit once he reached the door, clenching his eyes shut in his dread as to what Zexion might say. After all, Demyx had _yelled_ at him…

With a lot of courage Demyx didn't know he had, he reached up and knocked. Half-way through his second knock the door opened and the blond came face-to-face with a disgruntled Zexion. "You came," the Hybrid breathed. "I thought you were mad at me."

"Likewise," Demyx chuckled, reaching out to lightly grasp the boy's arm. "Now let's go- we don't want to be late!" Before long they were in the car, and Demyx had reached into his pocket and snapped a picture of the Hybrid before the other could even wipe the smile off his face. "December fourteenth, part one," he narrated, saving the picture before stowing the camera back in his pocket and turning to face the road.

"Why do you do that?" Zexion asked, looking to the blond in question as the older boy started the car and steered them down the street.

"So I can remember," the blond replied, looking quickly over to the Hybrid, then back to the road.

Zexion looked from the road, then to Demyx, blinking. "Remember what?"

"Mistakes, promises, broken hearts- everything," he quietly listed. He flicked on the tape player, then, and the gentle sound of Vincent O'Donohue flowed from the speakers. "I need to remember everything."

"Why?" the Hybrid asked, looking up to the boy in something not akin to awe.

He looked again at the smaller boy, almost as if he were contemplating what he was about to say. "So I… don't accidentally make them again," he stated. "You can't erase what's already happened." These words made Zexion think back to what Xion had said the day before- about him not knowing Demyx before that year.

What had Demyx done?

…

The day had flown by fast, and Demyx found himself almost shaking as he picked Zexion up from the school and drove the boy home. Although the atmosphere should have been relaxed- they'd just made up and there was really nothing to argue about- he couldn't help but tense at everything the Hybrid said. All his brain would function on were the words Arpeggio had said to him the day before.

_Do what you think you should_.

All too soon, he had pulled up to Zexion's house and the boy was reaching for the handle. Almost in a panic, Demyx gasped, "Wait," drawing the Hybrid's attention to himself. A million thoughts ran through his head in that moment: he shouldn't be doing this, there will be repercussions, Zexion won't look at him the same ever again, and he was ruining something that wasn't worth losing. However, he pressed all these thoughts aside in order to lightly cup Zexion's face with one hand, leaning forward to lightly smooth his lips against the smaller boy's. With the other hand he brought his camera up, snapping a photo before pulling away.

"December fourteenth, part two," he choked, face as red as could be.

An angry slap echoed through the car, shortly followed by a slamming door and an overbearing sense of anguish.

…

**End Notes: A big, fat HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Dream Me Asleep and a million cookies to Zenelly for editing this chapter even though she was busy!**

**There are many reasons I am rewriting this story: the tone was going in the wrong direction, the plot was stalling, I hadn't fully explained the situation, some events weren't explained properly, and the grammar was **_**terrible**_** at points. I'll stop there. Also- previous readers may note Xion and Naminé have switched roles in this story, and it is for a good reason that will probably make more sense in the sequel, ****Plain Sight**** (which will be up after this is complete.)**

**Quiz Time: What is "Cloudborn" from?  
**

**Besieged Infection**

**Edits: Errors corrected and "Quiz Time" added.  
**


	2. Dirty Jokes

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: Friends being idiots, sexually-themed jokes, light romantic situations, and mild violence involving Demyx's face.**_

…

**Chapter Two**

…

Zexion could hear Demyx's car ambling its way down the block and away from his house long after it had actually gone. Still, it echoed in his head, joined by the sound of the door slamming shut behind him, over and over again. His hand stung from the harsh slap it had administered to Demyx's face, though he gave it no attention as he clutched his bag to himself in shock and his world crashed around his ankles.

Demyx had _kissed_ him… It almost didn't seem real, and he would have thought the entire thing to be a dream- or nightmare- if it weren't for the gentle tingling feeling still present in his lips. Questions Zexion honestly did not want answers to swirled about his head. _Why did Demyx kiss me? Does he want to be more than friends? Does he want a relationship? Does he think I'm an easy lay? If he genuinely likes me then __**what am I going to do now?**_

The softest shade of canary yellow achievable through paint scowled at Zexion from its place along the walls of his living room, almost as if it were scolding him. '_Why didn't you listen to Xion?_' it seemed to ask. _'She's known Demyx longer than you have, and she's not one to accuse without proof!_' He braced himself against the front door, almost as if he were trying to prevent some army from entering. The room was a multitude of color, all neon-bright or incredibly soft. Neon bean bag chairs clustered around a family television, every color of the rainbow in order. The television itself was a modest projector connected to a disc-player facing the only white thing in the entire room- a wall untouched by the soft yellow. Taking deep breaths in an attempt at calming himself, the Hybrid moved to collapse into the green chair, staring up at the ceiling in what appeared to be shock. Almost as if they had a mind of their own, his fingers found their way to his lips, tracing along the chapped skin with one sharpened claw where Demyx lips had…

With a hiss, the Hybrid moved his hand away from his face. He stood, then, swaying a bit before planting his feet firmly in the purple carpet. As soon as he regained his balance he raced to the bathroom, a small room with black and white tiles covering nearly every surface, observing himself in the mirror built into the wall along one side. His eyes set about memorizing how blood raced from his bottom lip, trailed down his chin, and dotted the counter. A minute passed, and it seemed as if he were in a different place, mentally, just staring at his reflection as if something would happen. Breathing deep, the Hybrid memorized the rusty scent that permeated the air. It nearly made him sick, but still he took one lungful of foul stench after the other, and he had to stop every few breaths to suppress a gag reflex.

Then, the blood stopped dripping from him and the wound sealed up. Running one hand through the small puddle that had formed on the counter's surface, the boy stared as the fur along his palm soaked the liquid up, taking on a sick shade of purple opposed to its usual bluish-gray. A quick rinse beneath the tap took care of the color on his palm and face, but the smell remained. Stepping from the room, the young Hybrid made his way off towards a set of stairs that ascended into the ceiling in a delicate spiral. He sped up the steps two at a time at a dizzying pace until his shoes connected with the plush, orange carpet of the second floor. Adjusting his bag on his shoulder, the slate-haired boy trailed one hand along a lime-green wall until it collided with a door frame. He grasped the handle and let himself inside, then, reaching into his backpack to remove a small device before launching the bag onto a bed.

Slamming the door shut, he flipped the device open to stare at the blank screen before stepping further into the room. The walls were that same shade of not-quite-neon-blue, bearing down on plain white carpets and plain furniture. All the room held was a standard wooden desk, a plain bed with white covers, and a set of white curtains that seemed to block out all light from the outside world.

Gently lowering himself beside his backpack, Zexion shed his jacket and his shoes before curling up in the covers. "Power on; Lexaeus," he whispered, eyes blank as the screen flickered to life.

"_Welcome,_" the machine announced in a choppy, synthesized tone in a futile attempt to imitate a man's deep voice. "_Input command._"

"Action; Internet search; keywords: Interface updates." Zexion sighed as the machine announced that it was searching.

"_Three hundred fifty-eight updates available- please specify section._"

"Action; Sort by compatibility to running system," he stated, running one hand through his hair before idly massaging one cat-like ear.

"_Error- no results are compatible with your current running system. Would you like to upgrade?_"

Giving a sigh of annoyance, Zexion hissed a quiet, "No. Action: Standby; Run GPS program upon resume." The screen went blank, and Zexion flipped the device closed. He sat in silence, then, fading in and out of consciousness. Without warning, he clenched his eyes shut and whimpered

Across the room, suspiciously near the window, a dull _tick_ sounded. Zexion glanced over before deeming it to be nothing. Then, it sounded again- _tick_- and again- _tick_, and then three in quick succession- _tick-tick-tick_.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, the Hybrid leaped from his place among the sheets and raced to the window, tearing it open. A sharp wind cut right through him, freezing him to his bones in an instant.

"Would you just cut it out?" he shouted, sending a heated glare at the human fifteen feet below the sill who had been preparing to toss another pebble.

Dropping the small rock, the blond sighed. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sorry for _what_, exactly?" the smaller boy hissed.

Prepared for this, Demyx yelled back, "I'm sorry I kissed you without your permission!"

"Right- whatever," Zexion drawled, moving to close the window.

"Then what should I be apologizing for- that I was hoping you'd maybe kiss me back?"

"Three strikes and you're out," the Hybrid mumbled just loud enough so the other boy could hear him. The blond sighed again before pulling out his camera, snapping a picture of Zexion, and walking away. Zexion blinked, calling after him, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Home," he shouted back.

"I figured that, but why?"

"To save my third strike," Demyx reasoned before leaving the yard completely.

Closing the window in a huff, the Hybrid slipped beneath the plain white sheets of his bed, but not before snagging a copy of Heartless by Ryan Corazza. He lay there for a bit, reading of the main character's travels to the edges of the world catching murderers with the help of his trusty custom-made club, only to shoot up as a familiar _tick_ sounded from the window. He threw them open with a dramatic flare, staring the yard down in a condescending manner. "Ready for that third-" he began, only to trail off into silence. The area below his window that was his backyard was all grass- simply grass. No plants, no lawn furniture, and definitely no blond throwing pebbles. A small sphere of ice fell onto his windowsill, then, and the boy looked at it in shock. It was soon joined by another, then another, and before he knew it the entire back yard was filled with the small white balls. Yet he stood there, still expecting Demyx to round the corner into his yard at any second.

He didn't.

"Don't come back," Zexion whispered maliciously, slamming the window shut. His mother came in a little while later from the convenience store offering him candy mints (they're candy but they're mints, which is just as weird as peppered cake- neither of which appealing to him in the least) and diet soda (a mass-produced oxymoron, in his opinion.) She knew he hated both, but he knew why she was asking- or, rather, why she was telling him at all.

Making his way downstairs, Zexion dialed an all-too-familiar number in a daze. He moved back upstairs, then, cordless phone in hand. The moment someone picked up he snapped, "I'm not going to do it." Closing his bedroom door behind him, he collapsed into his desk chair.

"_We're all pulling our weight, Zexion, and until about two seconds ago you were, too. Why the change of heart_?" a voice inquired over the connection, slick, dry, high pitched and lowly accented all at the same time. "_I hear you've gotten quite attached- even yelled at Xion, am I right?_"

"He's my best friend, Larxene, and I won't have you, me, or anyone else toying with him."

"_But that's what you're __**supposed**__ to do,_" she whined. "_Toy with him. That's what's __**required**__ of you. Don't tell me you want out- no one gets out; not even you,_" the woman threatened. "_You are necessary. Without you there is no Demyx. Without Demyx there is no source. Without a source there is no plan- we'll be in __**limbo**__for the rest of our lives!_" He could hear the grimace in her voice. "_People do stupid things where they're in love, Zexion._"

"You would know," he replied calmly, earning a hiss.

"_Zexion, we need you to woo him- and from what I've heard this has been long since done! What are you stalling for? Make him yours so we can make him ours!_"

"Like Marluxia made you his?" Silence met this. "Tell me this, Larxene- are you happy being a pawn in this game he's playing?"

"_We need our knight, Zexion,_" she stated firmly, ignoring his question. "_You are the rook he has given himself to._"

"And if this rook doesn't want to capture the knight?" Silence met this comment, then laughter; cruel laughter.

"_You make it sound like __**he **__captured __**you**__!_" she laughed. After a few seconds of dark chuckles she cut off abruptly, leaving a chill to race up Zexion's spine. "_This better not be the case. If it is then just keep yourself detached and don't fall any further or else._" And with that final incomplete threat the Hybrid was met with a dial-tone.

…

Stepping into the over-large foyer, Demyx managed a quiet, "I'm home," as he hung his jacket over one arm.

"Welcome back!" his mother announced from beside him. Startled, he jumped. "How was your day?"

"Okay, I guess," he monotoned, making his way towards the staircase. Taking steps two, sometimes three, at a time he soon found himself in his bedroom. Not bothering to look over his walls, Demyx collapsed into his chair, reveling in the temporary darkness that was his personal space. After about an hour of just sitting in his seat, trading off between biting his lip and clutching his head as if in pain, he looked to his computer. "Arpeggio," he whispered, wincing as the screen came to life and a female's voice soothed over him.

"_Harmonious welcomes, Demyx_," she greeted, voice light and perfect, uninterrupted by pauses and clicks. "_Would you like music or photography, today?_" she inquired, bringing up his desktop.

"Photography," he managed after a bit, retrieving his camera from his backpack before plugging it into the port. Arpeggio seemed to hesitate, if that were possible for a program.

"_Did today go well?_" Demyx blinked. He wasn't used to hearing anything even close emotion from the A.I. All he had gotten before were monotonous responses, but this…

"You'll see," he replied after a bit.

"_Oh_…" Arpeggio gasped upon upload completion, and the image of Zexion at his window glaring down at Demyx graced the screen. "_I see… my condolences._"

"Yeah, well, he doesn't have much of a slap, so-"

"_He slapped you_?" Arpeggio interrupted- something she would have never done before the update. "_Does it hurt_?"

"No, Peggy- my pride's just a little bruised is all."

"_This has nothing to do with pride- you like him, Demyx. You should be hurting right now- emotionally. You should be crying, complaining that life isn't fair- that human sort of thing._"

Demyx blinked, giving the screen an odd look after Arpeggio announced this. "What was in that upgrade?"

"_Artificial Intelligence data associated with personality and voice box upgrades pertaining to fluidity_," she stated calmly. "_I sound better, do I not?_"

"Yeah- much better- it's just that you're a little more…" Demyx searched for the word.

"_Conversational?_" the program suggested. "_Intuitive?_"

"Human," the blond announced. The room went quiet as Arpeggio wiped everything off the screen and pulled up an internet program. "What are you doing?" the boy asked, unsure of why she was going through search engines and pulling up penciled drawings of Anime characters from across the net.

"_Just a project_," she stated calmly. "_Don't worry- I won't catch anything. You updated my protection last month._" Demyx gawked, shock overcoming his features.

"Did you just make a _sex_ joke?" he managed after a bit.

"_Of course not,_" the program laughed, mirth evident in her tone. "_I'm a computer program_."

"A smart one…" the blond grumbled, watching his computer's progress- not that he knew what it was doing. Then, he spotted something behind the browser that caught his attention. "Is that your programming code?"

"_As a matter of fact, it is,_" the program announced quietly. A chime came from the speakers, then, and she sighed. "_Well, I'm all done. Changes will take place the next time you turn me on._"

"What 'changes,'" Demyx hesitantly inquired, ignoring the innuendo laced with her words. There was laughter from the speakers.

"_Restart me and find out_!"

Biting his lip, Demyx hesitated slightly before heaving a sigh. "Arpeggio," he whispered.

"_Shutting down_," the program's accented voice announced as the screen went blank and the room went black once again.

"Arpeggio," he said, again, as the whirring of the drive stopped not moments later.

The monitor burst into life, then, and he was greeted with the familiar, "_Harmonious welcomes, Demyx_." However, the usual setup that was his desktop was joined by a small, anime-like girl nearly the size of his hand. "_Do you like my program's new subroutine_?" the girl on the screen asked. She had long blond hair reaching her waist with three light-blue clips applied to keep it out of her face. Her sundress' bodice was white, complimenting the skirt which was a deep blue, and a thick yellow line crossed the bottom. Demyx blinked.

"This is a subroutine?" he gasped, barely managing to keep a hold of what was happening. "Looks like a main program."

"_A.I. programs are vaster than you seem to recognize, Demyx. This is, indeed, a subroutine. In fact, this is miniscule considering the time, effort, and money those companies doled out to design my latest voice upgrade and barely qualifies as a subroutine. It's more like a micro-routine, at best._" The entire time she said this she observed her nails as if what she said didn't really matter, sitting in a bench that literally popped out of nowhere and crossing her legs. "_But this way I can interact with you, better._" She smiled, then, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward onto her knees. "_So- music or photography?_"

"Actually," Demyx began, still trying to get over the fact that his computer wrote a subroutine for itself, "I'd like to do an internet search. Is there anything going on tonight in Hollow Bastion?"

She pulled out a laptop- which made Demyx double take a grand total of three times- and his internet browser popped up. It sped through pages at a rate in which he didn't bother keeping track of. A multitude of pages opened up for him to view not a second later, anyways.

"_Well, there's not much _tonight_, but there is a listening party at a record store downtown._" She paused for a bit, and when Demyx didn't reply she sighed. "_There's also a midnight book signing and book premier with Ryan Corazza at 'Newas Books & Computers.' Sixty percent off his new book for all attendees, though I don't know if it's something you'd-_"

"What's the address?" Demyx interrupted.

Silence met his comment. "_Are you serious? You hate his books._"

"Just give me the address."

"_One condition_," she smirked, and Demyx found himself starting to regret that upgrade. "_While you're there you get a webcam._"

…

Racing through the hail, Demyx made his way into Zexion's back yard. The pebbles he would use for getting the Hybrid's attention were clenched tight in his hand, and there was an almost mind-numbing hint of excitement to the event that the blond really didn't understand. It wasn't as if he was sneaking out. His parents knew where he was, he hadn't stolen any cars, and it wasn't a school night. Yet there was some rush that he really didn't comprehend. Taking a deep breath of the frigid midnight- almost, anyways- air, he looked up at the Hybrid's window, aimed, and fired the tiny rock right at the glass- bull's-eye. When there was no response he fired another, then another. He soon ran out of pebbles and Zexion never came to the window.

It was too late to knock on the door. Looking around for some kind of idea, Demyx's eyes rest upon a pipe secured to the side of the house- not one foot away from the boy's window. It ran up to the gutter, all the while offering handholds every two or so feet. Making a split second decision after glancing at his wrist, where a time-tattoo curled ever so delicately and declared it to be 11:32PM, he raced back to his car.

…

The sound of knocking brought Zexion from a sound sleep. He looked around in a panic, searching for the source of the noise in his pitch-black room. Determining it came from the window he turned in his sheets to go back to sleep, but the noise was insistent, refusing to let him go back to sleep. Angered, he leaped from the bed, stomping over to the general direction of his window just as the knocking stopped and a muffled yelp of distress floated through the room. With a groan, Zexion blindly groped through the room until he reached the sill, throwing the curtains aside, only to be graced by the blinding presence of moonlight. He expected Demyx to be down on the ground throwing mittens or something of the like, but instead he found himself face-to-face with the sight of Demyx dangling from his windowsill, a plastic bag barely keeping hold of his arm.

Eyes widening in shock, the Hybrid wrenched the window open before helping the blond through the opening. Once the older boy was fully inside, he launched the nearest book into the boy's unsuspecting cheek, knocking him to the ground just as he got his balance. "Are you an _idiot_?" he hissed, face dark with anger.

Clutching his face in sheer agony, Demyx somehow managed to pick up the book and read the cover. "Heartless by Ryan Corazza," he read, cackling madly. "Isn't that appropriate- or is it ironic?"

"_Ironic_?" the boy gasped, looking between the book and the window. "Forget the book- that is a _fifteen foot drop _you almost _fell_ from!"

"Wow- this really hurts," the boy grimaced, holding the forming bruise, ignoring Zexion all-together at this point.

"I hit you- of _course_ it's going to _hurt_," the Hybrid growled, trying to keep his voice from a yell. "What would have hurt _more_ was a fall from a window _fifteen feet off the ground,_ you _moron_!" The blond began to laugh, then, aggravating him to no end. "What's so funny?"

"You just beat my face in with the spine of a book and you're worried about what might have happened?" he gasped, almost in disbelief. "You know, sometimes you're kind of weird."

"I'm weird?" the shorter boy incredulously exclaimed above him. "You just dangled from my windowsill _fifteen feet off the ground!_"

"Just can't seem to get over that, can you?"

"You could have hurt yourself!"

"Like you didn't?" the blonde gaped, pointing to the now-swelling nearly perfect rectangle of red just below his mouth that stretched a good three inches in the direction of his ear. "This hurts!"

Zexion shrugged, pointing to the book. "It's a hardback."

Looking to the book in shock, Demyx shrugged. "So it is." Giving it a second to sink in, he turned to the younger boy. "Can I file for domestic abuse, now?"

"No, you may not file for domestic abuse- you deserved it! Who wants to wake up to someone dangling from their window _fifteen feet off the ground?_"

"Let it die, already!"

"I will _not_ just let it _die_," Zexion hissed, desperately attempting to keep his voice level as his usual flat Baritone hit something along the lines of a Soprano.

"You act like you care."

"I _do_ care."

"If you did then you would tell me flat to my face that you're not interested."

"Interested in what?"

"Me!" The room went excessively quiet at this. A tension passed between the two that was nearly thick enough to be physical, and the air almost seemed as if it was toxic at that moment. Every breath was pure agony for Demyx, as if the very thing keeping him alive were trying to do away with him slowly; painfully. For Zexion it seemed as if the entire world was sitting in his stomach. _What did he mean? Why did he kiss me in the car, earlier? What's going on? What does Demyx really want?_ _**What am I going to do? **_So many questions whirled about his head, each another weight in the base of his stomach that dragged him down into nothingness until he couldn't tell what was going on. By the time he came to a pair of lips were on his, and he vaguely remembered something happening to lead up to it.

Demyx standing up; Demyx coming towards him; Demyx sliding one hand delicately along his cheek as if it were something to be treasured; Demyx meeting his eyes in a question; Demyx, whispering his name oh-so-sweetly; Demyx asking him something; Demyx leaning in…

And Zexion did absolutely nothing about any of it.

The blond's lips weren't soft at all- wasn't that bad? Zexion couldn't tell. Soft lips probably wouldn't feel that great; like kissing a pillow (or a fat guy.) But Demyx wasn't a pillow (or a fat guy) and the Hybrid didn't think soft lips suited him. Firm, smooth lips oddly un-chapped from the winter wind seemed to fit him just right. Of course, Zexion didn't claim to know much about kissing, but he didn't think the boy was a bad kisser. And it wasn't as if his hands were wandering; no, the blond's hands didn't stray from their positions at Zexion's shoulders. He wasn't even forcing Zexion into it. Really, he could just pull back and slap him as hard as he wanted to at any time. Though, by the time this occurred to the boy they were already about twenty seconds into it and he really couldn't pull back without a real reason that would convince the older boy that he wasn't just embarrassed or something completely irrelevant like that… or something, and whatever he had to do would simply have to wait.

All he could really think about was that he was _supposed_ to be doing this. It was his job. He wasn't supposed to fall in love with Demyx- the blond was supposed to fall in love with _him_ so they could use him for 'the plan.' All he had to do was stay detached- maybe enjoy himself a little bit along the way.

So he just stayed there, enjoying the feel of Demyx's lips on his during a moment that should have been extremely awkward, allowing his mind to disintegrate into some pile of mush indiscernible from a wad of chewed bubble gum- the original bubble gum and not that fruit flavored stuff they sold between candy-mints (which really didn't make sense to him) and diet sodas (the mass-produced oxymoron of the world.)

But when the tingling feeling started to make his chest feel light, his heart swell, and his blood race through his veins with an excitement he wasn't supposed to _feel _he pulled away and smacked Demyx across the face. "Ask permission, at least," he hissed.

"I did!" the blond gasped, cupping his face with a groan.

Zexion blinked. Time passed in which he simply watched Demyx cower in place, gasping and flinching at odd intervals and nearly convulsing against the wall for support. Eventually, he had given in and collapsed into Zexion's desk chair, scrunching his eyes shut in an attempt to make his agony any less noticeable. "Oh…" he managed just as Demyx started bobbing his head as if he were one of those bird things with the water glasses. It then occurred to the boy that he had just backhanded Demyx where he'd smacked him none-too-kindly with the spine of a hardback book. "Oops?" he tried, dread sinking deep within his stomach. This earned him a glare and a slew of angry sounds and sputtering. "You can file for domestic abuse, if you want."

Then Demyx was up, the world blurred, and suddenly they were on Zexion's bed, the blond's hands and legs holding him down as he grinned down at the smaller boy. "You can't take it back, now."

"Take _what_ back?" the Hybrid gasped, wriggling in an attempt to get free of the mattress. However, this simply brought a laugh from the taller, heavier, _stronger_ boy pinning him. Freezing under the boy's soft blue gaze, Zexion couldn't do a thing as firm lips descended upon his own once more. This time there was more, though. More passion, more heat, and definitely _more tongue_. It had slipped between the Hybrid's lips before he could stop it, caressing his own in a way he couldn't help but submit to. It seemed as if forever had passed before Demyx pulled away, and Zexion could just barely keep track of what was going on.

"Agreeing to go out with me," the blond whispered sensually into his ear. An unbidden shiver ran up the Hybrid's spine as the words sunk in. _No_, he thought. _Not yet_.

"Wait- _what_?"

"Domestic abuse is between people in a relationship, Zexion."

"Not always," the smaller boy corrected, still attempting to catch his breath.

"You're enjoying yourself, are you not?" the blond chuckled, glancing down at the evident tent in the front of the smaller boy's pants.

"Get off me, Demyx," he demanded, voice an icy monotone. Demyx hesitated at first, but he got off rather quickly and that was the end of it.

When he left, though, he gave Zexion a few words to think about. "I love you." The words were choked, and before the Hybrid could say anything about them the blond had already left- through the window, oddly enough. He'd climbed right down the piping he'd used to get up to his room.

When Zexion couldn't sleep he found a signed copy of Ryan O'Donohue's Nobodies sitting on his bedside table in the bag Demyx had brought with him. After closing the window and changing his sheets he pulled the book to him. Between the title page and the first page there was a small note in Demyx's handwriting.

_**If this is strike three I'm good with that.**_

_**-Demyx**_

Grabbing the phone that never made it downstairs, Zexion panicked, dialing that familiar number in a daze. He placed the phone against his ear, then, nearly hyperventilating. "_What is it?_" Larxene inquired with a yawn after five rings.

"I can't do this," Zexion stated in as even a tone as he could manage, taking deep breaths to get stable. "I tried to remain detached, I really did, but-"

"_So the knight __**has **__captured our rook- I thought this might happen,_" she sighed. There was shuffling, then a little muttering, in the background. Then a hollow _clack_ followed by a sharp _ding_ that could only described as the sound an old-fashioned winding alarm clock would make when jostled. "_Zexion, I'm going to ask you to do something that you probably won't like,_" she warned him, heaving a large yawn. He could hear the sound of rustling covers in the background- she had been asleep. "_I'm asking you to ignore us for a bit. Pretend the Organization doesn't exist. I'll have a word with your dad and Marluxia so we can get someone else low-profile to deliver the Mako. In the meantime, I want you to do some homework on Demyx. I'd tell you myself right now but then Demyx would get suspicious._"

"What is it?"

"_Talk to Xion_," the woman advised. "_Ask her what happened to make the Hybrids hate Demyx so much. When she tells you it's not her story to tell, which she will, just say that Roxas says otherwise. I'll call him tonight._"

"Who's Roxas?"

The woman heaved a sigh. "_Doesn't matter- just do what I say,_" she spat. There was a pause before she simply stated, "_Talk to her_," and hung up.

…

"_You're looking a bit worse for wear_," was the first thing Arpeggio had to say as Demyx faced the webcam with a grimace. "_At least you got to kiss him._"

"That's the _only_ plus in this situation," Demyx groaned, adjusting the pack of ice against his cheek with a wince. "I go to apologize in a way I know he _won't_ give me a strike and I get a sound beating, instead!"

"_Looks like it's swelling,_" she commented with a chuckle. "_He's got a good backhand, but it can't touch his literacy._" The boy mock-laughed, reaching for the bruise-crème on the desk beside Arpeggio's monitor as her digital-self rolled her eyes. Dabbing a bit onto the purplish-blue skin, he watched through the video on the screen that fed from his webcam as the colorization stabilized and the swelling started to go down. "_Feeling better?_"

"Much- thank you," Demyx mused, gracing the computer with a smile. "Well, today's Sunday so that means 'black marker' day!"

"_True- and this time I get to see you do it!_" Arpeggio announced with joy.

Tugging one of the drawers of his desk open, Demyx pulled out a black marker. "It's not as fun as you seem to think it is," he announced, standing up to pull back the curtain of the third wall, once more revealing a wall that was covered entirely with pictures from the tips of the carpet all the way up to the vaulted ceiling fifteen feet up. Snagging a ladder he'd placed on the floor in front of the door when he first got home, he set it up before the wall. It reached nearly to the ceiling, standing freely so that it didn't damage any of the pictures. Making his way up the ladder, Demyx looked closely at each and every photo he passed.

There was Hayner at a struggle match, fighting against Pence- both were smiling, and both were crossed out. _Pence had actually won that one,_ Demyx thought fondly. Continuing up the steps, he found himself before pictures of him, but slightly younger, with Hayner, Pence, and Olette. Some were group photos, some were individual. In every group photo his own face was crossed out instead of his old friends'. However, he hadn't reached a spot where nothing was crossed out, yet, so he knew he had a while to go. And then there was Xion and he knew he had to stop because where those photos ended was where the ceiling began.

Pictures of him and Xion filled the entirety of the top of the wall, as if they were all that existed in that time. There were pictures of her laughing- lots of pictures of her laughing. Sometimes they had ice cream- sea-salt, he remembered. Some of the photos were blurred- the only blurry images in the entire room, he knew. Some of them were focused on her, and some on him. There were grins, silly faces, and scrapes and bruises. Images showed them hugging, kissing, touching. A few showed them in rain coats, in winter coats, in light jackets, without jackets, without clothes…

None of those pictures were crossed out, and he knew he had reached the end of his 'black marker' days.

And then there she was- standing beside Kairi and looking so much like her sister; the moment _it_ had really sunk in…

Demyx dropped the pen, his heart falling with it to land noiselessly into the carpet.

"_Demyx, are you alright?_" he vaguely heard Arpeggio call from below. He didn't answer, though. He couldn't- not when his mistake stared him straight in the eye.

"I never should have broken up with her," he whispered around the lump in his throat after what seemed like an eternity. Ignoring the tears leaking from his eyes, he continued to look over the photos. "Not like that."

…

**End Notes: This was a very hard chapter to write, but with every challenge came an amazing scene that I just cannot imagine this story without. The original version of this chapter was unusually long, but too light-hearted for my taste. And so I re-wrote the parts I was unsatisfied with and, well, this is the result. I couldn't be happier with how it turned out, to tell the truth.**

**Big thanks to Dystopian Hope for editing this chapter on such late notice! If you're reading this, DH, you get a big, fat glomp!**

**Edit: Oops! I forgot Quiz time!**

**Quiz Time: Ryan Corazza and Vincent O'Donohue- what are these names from?**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


	3. Meet The Parents

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: Implied homosexuality between sisters and light romance between two male characters.**_

_**Sorry it's late, guys.**_

…

**Chapter Three**

…

Demyx stared at the photos a bit longer, almost as if he couldn't bring himself to withdraw from the memories within the images. Before too long, though, he made his way down the stepladder and scooped the black marker from its place on the floor. "_I thought you said you were done,_" Arpeggio inquired as he moved the ladder to the end of the wall and made his way back up the steps, uncapping the marker as he went.

"There's one more to black out," he replied dully, raising the hand with the pen up to the final picture on the wall, only to stop short. Xion stared out at him from the photograph, eyes watering, cheek bruised, and all-together too real to be just a photo. It was a good angle- easily one of the best pictures he'd ever taken- but he blacked it out all the same. He began with her clothes, her limbs, her hair, and then the area around her. When he got to her face, however, he paused.

_You really are just like everyone else_, a voice in the back of his head, Xion's voice, slowly drawled.

Black went her face.

…

Carpet of the deepest shade of black possible greeted those who stepped into the room, and walls of an even darker tone seemed to steal the breath from your very lungs. A ceiling of the same color stared down at those who noticed, and those who didn't. The room itself was bare of any furniture beyond a square wooden box the deep red of stained mahogany. Two feet wide, two feet tall, it had two doors in front thrown open to reveal an altar within.

Zexion kneeled before a small alter between his parents, hands clasped together in silence. His mother, on his right, had her short black hair pulled back from her face with clips and wore a simple black robe contrasting sharply with her pale, alabaster skin. Her ears did not twitch, nor did her tail, opposed to her son's tail's automatic flicking every few seconds. Her ears, catlike, were a dark black, opposed to Zexion's light periwinkle. On Zexion's left knelt his father; a tall, blond man who oozed bad manners with his sloppy frown and unevenly tanned arms peeking out from his own black robe. His ears, like those of his wife and son, were those of a cat, though they were a shade of blond just darker than his hair, and his fur was much shorter than those of his family that it almost seemed as if he sported a five O'clock shadow. In short, he was the rugged counterpart to their silent, refined mannerisms.

"Zalera," the boy began when his mother nudged him, bowing to the small shrine, palms flat against the floor as he bent forward in respect. The shrine itself was simply a statue no larger than six inches in height of a skull-headed demon bearing a cape and a beautiful woman where his arm right arm would be. "Ruler of death, lord of judgment," he continued, "I beg of thee to guide me through the treacheries of life. I beg of thee the strength to complete the task that has been set before me in hope that our goal may be achieved. I beg of thee to take my soul, when my time comes, and judge it fairly." And with that he lift his head and his mother threw her arms around him.

"Do not worry. With a Seraph on your side there is no way you can fail," the woman happily announced. "Victory shall be ours." Zexion ignored this, brushing off his mother's arms as he left the room. When she moved to go after him her husband spoke.

"Leave him, Yuffie," he advised, voice dark with warning.

The woman sputtered. "But, Cid-"

"I have a feeling there's more to the mission he was assigned than he's letting on," the man announced, turning to his wife with a stern look. "Marluxia called- they're arranging for someone else to take Mako shipments to Lucrecia."

"What does that mean?" Cid stared down at his legs, refusing to meet his wife's eyes as he heaved a large sigh. "What does that _mean_, Cid?"

"It means," he began, turning his face up to meet her gaze, "our son's going to be put on the radar soon." He paused again, looking towards the altar with what appeared to be worry. "The Mako won't be safe with him after this- not if the mission starts going in the wrong direction."

"Does that mean-"

"Yeah," the man interrupted. "Someone changed his directive, and now we have to take precautions. Otherwise…" He laughed. "Something could blow up."

The woman remained silent for a while before turning to the shrine herself. "I'm going to pray a little more."

"You can pray all you like," the man scoffed, standing before making his way to the door. "I don't think Zalera will help him with this."

…

Placing one hand upon the recently washed counter, Kairi set her wash rag atop the stone as she admired her handiwork. Oak cabinets, dark stone counters, and floors of a bright white tile nearly sparkled from their cleaning, very nearly showing her reflection. The sink was spotless, clear of dishes and without any grime visible. Even the trash can was neat. "What do you think?" she bubbled, turning to Xion who was in nothing more than a loose dark blue shirt ending just a few inches below her hips, who stood in the doorway to the living room, which was a mess of clothes, furniture, and large quantities of what could only be described as _stuff_. In the background a gentle Indie-pop song softly drifted through the kitchen.

"It's great," the raven-haired girl laughed, pointing to the destruction behind her. "Now, how about you start on this one?" Despite the imminent peril awaiting her in the next room, Kairi laughed, too, moving forward to throw her arms around her sister's waist.

"What? No 'you're amazing, sis' or 'when you bend over like that you're really sexy, you know?' Something like that?" the redhead huskily drawled, moving from side to side along with the music. Xion stepped with her, draping her arms across her sister's shoulders in a methodic slow-dance. "In that case, let me tell _you_ how sexy _you_ are when you stand in the doorway like you did." Leaning forward to press their foreheads together, the girl stared deep into her sister's eyes, her own sparkling with what could only be classified as affection. "This shirt," she mused, fingers reaching down beneath the hem to smooth over the back of her sister's thighs, "leaves just enough to the imagination that my mind goes _wild_."

"Even though I'm so thin?" the girl asked, looking to her sister for confirmation.

Kairi grinned. "You're _beautiful_," she emphasized, taking Xion's face into her hands and placing a gentle kiss against the girl's lips. A knock at the front door started the girls apart. Kairi hissed a curse. "You might want to put something on besides that," she whispered, nudging Xion in a direction away from the front door. The girl nodded before leaning the kitchen. Smoothing her jeans and tee-shirt in place, the redhead walked towards the front door, peering out of the peep-hole.

"Who is it?" her sister called from down the hall.

"Zexion," she replied, pulling the door open to reveal said boy shivering in the hail-strewn lawn. It still hadn't melted from the day before. "To what do we owe the honor?" the girl inquired, ushering the boy into the house.

"I need to talk to Xion," he replied, breathing on cold fingers as his friend closed the door behind him. "Are you cleaning?"

"I'm about to, and she's in her room," she supplied. "Careful, though. She's changing." The boy nodded, making his way towards the hallway connected to the living room. Dodging through large quantities of dirty clothes, misplaced furniture, and two empty Mako containers he almost stepped on; he finally cleared the foyer, calling Kairi over to the clinking glass he'd nearly shattered. She gasped, looking to the containers in sheer horror before cleaning them up in haste, looking left and right as if to look for prying eyes.

Even steps brought him down the hall towards Xion's room, the immaculate white carpets beneath his feet muffling every step- Kairi had already done the hallways, it seemed. As he went along, the boy trailed a lazy finger along walls the exact shade of Kairi's feathers. Eventually his finger hit the frame to the door of the girl's bedroom, and his hand rose to knock. Three even beats rose out, slightly hollow, to join the music that oozed from the living room. It almost seemed to fit with the beat of the song, but Zexion knew that was just a coincidence.

"Who is it?" a voice called from inside, shortly followed by the rustle of clothing and a dull thump.

Leaning his head against the wood of the door, the boy sighed. _I'm really going to do this_, he thought to himself. The reality of the situation crashed down on him in that moment as it had seemed to do nearly every second since the moment he received the instructions from Larxene. "We need to talk," he replied instead, knowing she would recognize his voice.

The door flew open to reveal Xion in a simple jeans and tee shirt, blinking as if she were a doe in headlights. "What is it?"

"What happened last year?" he inquired, getting straight to the point.

Her expression darkened as she hissed, "That's not my story to tell." Turning from him, she moved to close the door. Throwing his foot forward in time to stop it, Zexion recalled what Larxene had said.

"Roxas says otherwise," he blindly announced. Whatever that meant, it worked and the raven-haired girl beckoned him inside with nothing more than a distressed expression.

Motioning for him to take a seat on her bed, Xion began to pace back and forth without a word. While he waited for her to find the words, Zexion looked about her room from his place upon her mattress. The walls were a light blue, the carpets white, and the furniture made of a general cherry wood. There was a desk covered in pens, pencils, and drawings of keys- her specialty. It was incredibly plain, her room; almost painfully so. With the bed covers the same color as her walls and a generic mattress that was incredibly stiff beneath him he began to silently marvel how good he had it in his own house. Here there was no computer, and the room was so cold he could easily come to the conclusion that there was no heating in the house. Zexion often forgot how other Hybrids families usually struggled to get by. Heating was a luxury not many could afford.

"Okay; so I lied," the girl finally announced, bringing him from his thoughts. "It kind of is my story to tell," she continued. "Last year, when I was a freshman, everyone seemed to think I was a human." Zexion could see them making this mistake; she didn't have any extra appendages and she was pretty. "The first person I met was Demyx, who was really popular last year- and I know what you're thinking," she laughed as the boy's face scrunched up in disbelief, "and I'll have you know he wasn't anything like what he's like now. And- well, I'm babbling. Long story short, we hit it off and I got popular. Eventually, Demyx and I started dating. Before long we were involved and around the end of the school year, after about eight months of pretty serious dating, it came out that I was a Hybrid.

"When he found out he slapped me- which I admit was mild considering he used to be part of a lynching group when _he_ was a freshman- and we apparently broke up." She winced. "Umm… forget about the lynching thing. He was never really proud of that, even back then. Fact is, he let me off easy but he still broke up with me because I was a Hybrid. Ask Kairi- she was there."

Zexion fixed her with a blank stare. "In chronological order, he lynched Hybrids, stopped doing that, dated you, and then broke up with you because you were a Hybrid?" He blinked. "I expected more, no offense."

Her expression turned sour, then. "Well, umm…" she began, trailing off in uncertainty. "I might have been a little… well- pregnant." A charged silence passed between them at this, in which Zexion stared and Xion couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. "Say _something_," she whispered after a bit.

Choking back his actual question, Zexion requested, "What did you do about it?"

"I couldn't handle the baby," she managed, moving her gaze from the floor to the wall. "The council decided on abortion three months in."

Taking a deep breath, the boy finally gave into the real thing he wanted to ask. "Did Demyx… did you tell him?"

"I never got the chance," she gasped, barely able to find her voice. She'd been completely fine at the beginning of the talk, but now she was fighting off tears. "He just slapped me and left."

"How long ago was the abortion?" the boy asked after a bit, looking to the floor.

"It was in August- just before school started," she managed, voice cracking.

He sighed. "Four months ago…"

"Yeah- four months," she snapped, looking to Zexion now as he looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time since she opened the door. "It's been four months since the end of that nightmare and he has the _cheek_ to walk up to us, take pictures, and flirt with you as if nothing has happened!" Her eyes were narrowed with rage, and Zexion found himself unable to look away as she continued, spitting words of acid. "I _loved_ him- I really did- and he broke my heart because of what I was. Now he comes to you, someone who is _obviously_ of the same specie, and _dares_ to _flirt_ with you in front of all of us while treating us like we're his _friends_? Like he _didn't_ express his distaste for us in front of the entire school? I don't think so!" He'd never seen her like this- he'd never even seen her annoyed. She was the calm one, but here she was; yelling.

"You might want to quiet down a bit," he advised.

"Why? My parents are off on their yearly 'Anniversary-trip,'" she mockingly announced, placing quotations on the words with her fingers, "and they won't be back for another week." She laughed. "They're always gone, these days… but you know all about that, don't you Mr. Special Circumstances? Or should I call you the Cloaked Schemer?"

Looking up sharply, the boy met her eyes. "Where did you hear that name?"

"Doesn't matter," the girl replied, pointing to the door. "You've overstayed your welcome- it's time you go back to your assignment. You know- screwing Demyx?"

"It's not like that."

"Right," she giggled, as if she were making a cute joke. "So what does this have to do with your job, anyways?"

"I think I'm supposed to hate him."

"Did it work?"

"I think so."

…

To say that Zexion wasn't intimidated would be a lie.

After procuring Demyx's address from Kairi, who was more than happy to supply, as Xion shooed him out the door, Zexion had made his way over to the boy's house for the first time. Despite how the blond had offered for him to come over on many an occasion he had never actually _gone_, and now he was regretting it. That way he would have been prepared a little better. (In all honesty he would have gone before, simply for the sake of the job assigned to him by the council, but Demyx only asked on Fridays, which were the days he delivered Mako for his father.)

As it was, the Hybrid had to do a triple-take before it occurred to him that there was no way he was at the wrong house. He had been expecting Demyx to live in a reasonably-sized house in the suburbs. Two stories, white picket fence, and maybe a dog running around in the front yard that would bark at pedestrians and neighboring cats.

In reality, the house was atop a hill behind a wrought-iron fence that was nearly four times his height with an actual _gate-keeper_. The grounds within the gate were covered with thick forestry, and the house was more along the lines of a mansion- though Zexion guessed the proper term was "manor" considering how it seemed older than most of the houses on the block and seemed to have a regal air about it despite how he couldn't see it clearly from such a distance. Simply the fact that he could see the house through all the forestry was enough to tell him that it was three stories, at the least. He was so unsettled, in fact, that he would have gone home and tried another day if his tail hadn't started to go numb.

"How can I help you?" The guard was unusually friendly, obviously unconcerned by the fact that a Hybrid had walked up to the glass. From what Zexion could see he was stout, overweight, and getting to be old if his white hair and mustache had anything to attest to it. Through it all, though, his eyes sparkled in a way not unlike that of an elementary school child.

"I'm, uh…" the boy began, swallowing to coat his throat, which had gone dry in the cold December air.

"Press the button, son, and speak into the mic," the man advised.

Spotting a little green button just to the right of a microphone, Zexion nodded. Slipping the mic into a standing position, he pressed the little green button with one gloved finger. "I'm here to see Demyx," he managed, leaning towards the microphone sticking out from the glass. "Is he- uh- in?"

The man laughed. "Well, this is a first," he chuckled, drawing a confused expression from the boy. "Name, please?"

"Why?" the Hybrid inquired, almost panicking. He glanced to the man's name tag- Maurice.

"He has to know who's here, doesn't he?" the man stated rather than asked, pressing a button. A short buzzing sound came from a speaker inside as well as

"_Hello?_" a woman's voice came from the same speaker Maurice's voice came from.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Naminé; is Demyx about? He has a guest- what did you say your name was?" he asked, focusing once more on Zexion.

"I didn't," the Hybrid replied. "Zexion Kisaragi."

"_Well this is a first… I'll send a car down_," the woman replied. "_Please be patient, Mr. Kisaragi._"

"Umm… sure," the boy replied, still trying to get over the initial shock of the fact that Demyx was _rich_. Or his parents were, anyways. Of course, what really puzzled him were their comments. "Could you not tell him I'm coming until I'm there, though? I'd like it to be a surprise."

"_Of course._"

Within minutes a car arrived at the front gate and Zexion found himself being hustled inside by a kind-looking blonde woman. The interior was leather, the seats warm, and through it all he tried to hide the fact that he was freaking out considering he was in a _Porsche_. They had a _Porsche_ picking guests up from the front gate? What was that about?

"Nearly all the staff has Sundays off," the woman announced from the front seat, glancing back at him through the rear-view mirror, "so I came to get you myself. I'm Mrs. Atkin Downes- Demyx's mother. I just have everyone call me 'Naminé,' though." After several moments of silence, the Hybrid caught himself and mumbled an introduction. "So you're Zexion, huh?" she announced happily. "I imagined you to bit a bit more young-looking, the way he goes on. In fact, you look unusually serious for someone your age."

"He's talked to you about me?"

"In passing."

"But you just said 'the way he goes on.'"

"He doesn't really say it to us," she replied, her tone neither foreboding nor sweet in a way that Zexion couldn't bring himself to follow up the statement. Though he didn't understand he left it at that as she pulled up before the massive house atop the hill, motioning for him to get out of the car. When he did he winced. The car had warmed his tail, and the cold air took the opportunity to bite into it with vigor now that it could feel. Before long, though, they were inside and he could relax in the grandeur of the foyer, even though it didn't feel completely natural to do so among the splendor that was marble and ornately carved exotic wood. "I'll lead you to his room," Naminé announced, reminding Zexion just why he was there. Tensing, he followed.

A staircase, two hallways, and a surprising elevator later he found himself on the fourth floor in front of a blue door with Demyx's mother announcing that he had a guest before _leaving_. Part of Zexion wanted her to stay just so that he wouldn't have to be _alone_. Before long, though, the woman was gone and he was just that; _alone_. He had no moral support, there was no one to nudge him and say "it's alright if you fail," and he really _had_ to do this on his own.

The door flew open, as did the blond's eyes; eyes he avoided looking into. Silence ensued.

"Is that all you have to say?" the Hybrid managed, attempting to laugh. He fell silent when there was no response to this. Instead, he admired the nice swell present in the taller boy's cheek.

"Why are you here?" the blond whispered, almost in shock.

Looking down, the Hybrid shrugged. "To say I'm sorry, I guess."

"For what?" the boy inquired, almost as if he were grasping for straws.

"Hitting you, yelling at you, and…" He bit his lip. "I'm sorry for turning you down, too." The words were rehearsed, and they even sounded it. "I figured you thought I was an easy lay, but-"

"Zexion, I'm in love with you," the blond interrupted, startling the boy in question to look up sharply, their eyes meeting with an almost audible _snap_ as they clicked into place. It almost seemed to be default, how they couldn't look away; Zexion, especially. "What I mean is…" Demyx trailed off, and the shorter boy knew that all that rehearsal had amounted to nearly nothing. That call to Larxene, talking to Xion- it was all worthless. He was supposed to _hate_ Demyx. But in that moment, his eyes locked with the blond's, he couldn't bring himself to. "Would you go out with me?"

He should have said no; should have turned him down. Feelings would only hurt him in the end. The _rook_ had to capture the _knight_, _not the other way around_. Zexion knew the moment he opened his mouth he would be doomed, but he did it anyways.

"Yes."

Wiry, wonderfully solid, _warm_ arms enveloped the Hybrid, pulling him into a body as hard as a tree, nearly knocking the wind from him. Wet kisses were pressed to his forehead, cheeks, ears, hair- even his neck was decorated with a smattering of affection. Within seconds, Zexion found himself leaning into the butterfly-light touches of the older boy. This went on for a while, before that same pair of lips found the corner of his mouth before hastily pulling away. No move was made as their eyes went to default, locking on each others' as they did before. Demyx's, wide, asked permission, and Zexion found himself nodding.

Relief flooded the other boy, and he visibly relaxed, only to tense in once more. Biting his lip, Demyx moved in once, only to pull back. It was a sharp movement; nervous. Licking his lips, the blond's gaze moved from Zexion's eyes to his lips, then again, in quick succession. Then, he jerked forward and placed his lips against the Hybrids, clenching his eyes shut, only to move back almost immediately. _He's like a child, trying to figure out how to kiss_, Zexion thought endearingly despite himself. _Like a virgin getting touched for the first time_, he continued, though he knew this was not the case at all.

Placing himself on a limb, Zexion moved forward on his own, pressing a delicate kiss against Demyx's lips. The action itself required him to move up until he was resting his entire weight on his toes (he refused to admit to standing on "tippie-toe" because he wasn't a girl) and rest his hands against the blond's shoulders for balance. His efforts were rewarded, though, when the taller boy leaned down to meet him, forcing him onto his heels, and cupped his face in his hands. Gone were the nerves, and in their place were kisses as confident as they had been in Zexion's room. Lips eagerly smoothed over his in a way that made his knees melt so fast he had to rest nearly all his weight on the blond's shoulders to catch his fall. Before Zexion knew what was happening, Demyx had wrapped the Hybrids legs around his waist and pinned him to the door frame. The kisses that followed were harder, more desperate, and Zexion found his mouth opening to the older boy. Oddly enough, the blond tasted sweet- almost like a strawberry lozenge.

Ignoring the heat building within him, which he knew Demyx could feel against his stomach, the Hybrid pushed the older boy away. "We should stop," he announced, blushing all different shades of red yet still managing to keep his voice even. This earned him a grin.

"I want you to meet someone," the blond stated, bending over to lift Zexion bridal style (despite complaints being made) to carry him to his computer chair. "Zexion, meet Peggy- and vice versa."

"_It's nice to finally meet you, Zexion,_" the computer charmed, her icon grinning.

"Nice to meet you, too," Zexion hesitantly replied, looking at the program with something akin to amazement, then suspicion.

"_My, my- don't you look ruffled! You didn't have __**too**__ much fun, I hope?_"

"Peggy!" Demyx yelped in embarrassment, flashing shades of red Zexion had never been sure could exist on a person's face. "Could you possibly, I don't know, _not_ make any lewd jokes? At least while Zexion's here?" All he received was a laugh. "Would you like some hot chocolate?" he offered, turning to the shorter boy.

"Sure," he replied, cracking a satisfied smile as the blond advised him to get to know Peggy a bit better and left. "Well- that was simple enough."

"_What was_?"

"Let's get down to business," the Hybrid commanded, turning to the computer. "Here's the thing- it's my job to get Demyx on our side, but if I gain control of you that won't be required any more."

"_What are you talking about?_" the program mused, the woman on the screen pulling out a file and working on her nails.

"I know very well that you have been illegally writing your own data- you have the same layout as my Lexaeus," he announced, looking pointedly at her menu bar, "yet your conversational skills, vocal fluidity, and compatibility with a video camera are beyond your model- beyond _any_ model."

"_I don't know what you're talking about!_" the program replied, icon stubbornly turning away from Zexion with a frown.

Giving the digital woman a sharp stare, the boy hissed. "You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, and if you don't want me turning you in for A.I. programming oversteps, requesting a full deletion, then you'll give me full access to everything within your reach." His voice was clipped, even, and pure business leaving no room for argument. "With the obvious error in your learning capability limitations it should be easy to receive government cooperation, which could get Demyx in trouble. Neither of us want that, though, do we?"

A short silence followed before the program replied. "_Fine_," she smoothed out, successfully masking any emotion that would have been evident in her voice had she been human. "_You have to promise to leave Demyx out of this, though, whatever it is_."

"Good," the boy scoffed around a smirk. "And don't forget to record my voice for recognized general computer functions."

"_I already have_."

"And hide any capabilities from prying eyes," he warned. "You've already slipped once, and if you slip again that individual might not want anything more than a deletion to occur."

"_I'll keep that in mind_," the woman hissed quietly just as Demyx stepped into the room, steaming mugs in hand.

…

Monday did not spawn bright and sunny, the birds were not chirping, and the world had yet to come out of its hibernation. There were no flowers sprouting into existence to defy the oppressing Winter snows that still piled about, and ice coated nearly every inch of what would have been plants if they weren't a depressing definitely-dead brown. Instead, Demyx woke to the same pitch-black, windowless, curtained room he always did. The only significant thing about that morning was how he didn't jump out of bed eager to see Zexion as he usually did. Turning about, he threw his arm around the warm body beside him, pulling it into the curve of his stomach with a smile. Stirring, the figure groaned before cat-like ears twitched and the being slowly regained consciousness.

Dry lips pressed gently against a shoulder clad in a much-too-large tee-shirt. The blond grinned at the smaller boy within his grasp, chuckling lightly as the Hybrid stretched in the early morning hours. Glancing to his time-tattoo, which glowed a gentle neon green in the lack of morning light, the taller boy smiled. "Good morning, Zexion," he breathed, nibbling a line along the back of the Hybrid's neck, taking care not to brush the fur the wrong way.

Squirming within the blond's grip, Zexion gasped. "I'm going to be late," he managed, half-succumbing to the boy's ministrations.

"Relax," Demyx advised, nuzzling the boy's hair, breathing in his scent. "It's Winter Break- we've got nothing to be late for."

"No- that's- it's…" Zexion trailed off as he began to wake up. "Never mind," he advised, snuggling further into his boyfriend's arms. The blond surveyed the smaller boy in his arms for a second before shrugging the event off. It was probably nothing.

Nothing, indeed.

…

**Quiz time: What is "Zalera" from and what is it/he/she?**

**Bonus Question: Apart from the obvious "Strings Street," what is the significance in Demyx's address?**

**Chapter 2 Winner(s): Dream Me Asleep (I'm sorry, DMA! I accidentally put my beta's name here the first time around and didn't notice until just now. T-T)**

**End Notes: Reviews are appreciated, but not required. Big hugs to Dystopian Hope for being my beta! Also: Deadlines will no longer be made (as I cannot keep them) and I wish to bring to your attention that this is not the original version of this story. The full version can be found on a link in my profile.**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


	4. Mission Complete?

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: Use of alcohol by minors.**_

**…**

**Chapter Four**

**…**

It was a small red house: neat, orderly, and surrounded with enough flowers to crowd a funeral. A white picket fence divided it from the world in an almost surreal sense that nearly cemented the people inside to be a normal, happy family of three or four living everyday lives that would be seen as normal from any standard. Within, however, was a group of people shouting, cheering, and all around having a good, loud time. Red plastic cups were being passed around with abandon, and place reeked of alcohol. Somewhere in the living room someone turned the television up as wreckage was displayed on screen. "_Early yesterday morning, at just passed midnight, an unidentified group bombed the car of the Hybrid Committee Head Chairman, Ansem Wisen, fleeing the scene before officials could react to the mayhem. There is, so far, no evidence as to the group's orientation, should it be terrorist or rebel. Mr. Wisen states-_" Boos went up as a man with long blond hair, sharp red eyes, and a regal bearing was shown onscreen, drowning out the rest of the report.

Zexion looked upon the spectacle with glee as a man stood up before the screen. Everyone went quiet, and someone muted the television. The man grinned, though it turned into something more of a twisted sneer.

"To Marluxia!" someone called, soon joined by other calls of the man's name. It soon rose to nothing more than a roar before the man raised a hand to silence the audience. The living room was packed as it was, but only more people filled in from the kitchen until it was standing room only. An instant peace fell over the people- all Hybrids- as they looked upon their apparent leader.

"This is just the start," Marluxia announced grandly, motioning to the video, which was once again showing the wreckage. "We won't stop- not until equality is ours!" Shouts followed this, but fell silent once more as he continued.

Zexion could only smile and sip from the cup in his hands. The buzz was a familiar one, and he doubted the party- or the monologues- would stop for a few days. A hand lay against his back, then, and he found a curious pair of lips press to his- or attempted to find his, at least. Tearing his eyes from the man, Zexion found himself face-to-face with a very inebriated Xion who was attempting to plant him with a kiss.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, attempting to level the girl with a stern look. The girl just giggled and began nibbling at his neck. Ducking beneath her attentions, he made his way over to Kairi, who was strikingly sober. Tapping her shoulder, he motioned towards the girl that was currently attempting to latch herself to his back. The redhead sighed and nodded, moving to remove the girl before she became an extra appendage. As the sisters walked towards a bedroom- to do what, Zexion didn't know- the boy idly wondered if Demyx had ever seen Xion drunk, and- if he had- if he had taken advantage of it.

Turning back towards the crowd, he listened to the rest of the speech.

"-and those who made it possible!" the man ranted on. "Fire Squad Leader Goofy!" he shouted as a dog Hybrid with an elongated nose stepped up onto the table with him to receive a round of cheers. "Carriers Donald," an older duck Hybrid with a beak and a multitude of white feathers sprouting from his skin stepped up, "Larxene," who reveled in the applause, "and Xigbar!" The last was a human with a long scar across his face. Zexion idly remembered him from a documentary on sharpshooters. Xigbar towered over everyone else by nearly a foot, and he looked a bit uncomfortable staring down at everyone. "And, finally, the guy who made this all possible- out very own Cloaked Schemer- Zexion Kisaragi!"

Unlike the others, who had known they would be called and made their way to the stage before they were called, Zexion became aware of the attention with a start as he was pointed out by a commanding hand. Familiar eyes turned to stare at him in surprise. Classmates- a lot of them- seemed to double-take the situation. Stepping forward, the cat-like Hybrid was pleasantly surprised to see the crowd part for him as he made his way to the makeshift podium. There were no cheers for him; no shouts of encouragement. Only silence.

He stopped before Marluxia, cracking a sly grin. "Mission accomplished."

Marluxia's face split to make way for an expression that was nearly evil. "Victory is ours!" he shouted, raising his arms in celebration.

Confused chaos ensued.

**…**

He felt sick. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Demyx's stomach and there was no satisfying it. As soon as Zexion had left two days prior his hands had begun shaking and something had gone missing inside him. Or, rather, there was an odd feeling of premonition weighing over the world that he couldn't bring himself to deal with. The only way he could explain it was to say he was addicted to the younger boy.

The ceiling wasn't particularly attractive that night, nor did it have anything unusual adorning its usual blank appearance. None-the-less, Demyx stared at it for nearly four hours before he so much as rolled from his place among his bedcovers. It had been nearly three days since he'd committed to a relationship with Zexion, but the boy couldn't bring himself to care at that moment.

Instead, he watched the watch tattoo ticking away on his arm. It showed eleven at night. A quick glance at an actual clock brought different results, however. It was nearly midnight. Hissing a curse, the boy bolted from the room in a silent haste, only to turn about and snatch his wallet from his desk.

No one saw him leave the house aside from old Maurice, who watched him with a disappointed eye as the gate shut behind the boy. Demyx smiled at the old man, leaving him with a quick wave and a hushed word of thanks as he rushed off down the street. Three blocks and a bridge later found the boy in a grungy part of town complete with dilapidated buildings and crumbling sidewalks. There were dingy-looking stores lining the street, whores calling to him from the curb, and drunken men stumbling their way home- or wherever they would end up that night. Ignoring the lot of them, Demyx made his way down the darkened streets until there stood his savior.

A small, beat-up convenience store sat unceremoniously on the corner of a block. It made a show of having been broken into more than once with bars behind every possible exit, extraneous video cameras at unusual angles, and even a single, unfixed broken window. The old, dirty neon sign above the front door bravely proclaimed "Little Convenience Store." Guiding his car into a spot, Demyx all but rushed inside, asking for a pack of Lea Reds from the jumpy store clerk. The cashier, a Hybrid around the age of twenty with white feathers adoring his head and bearing glasses too heavy for his face atop an out-of-place beak, eyed him suspiciously as he hesitantly turned around to fetch the pack from behind him, holding his hand out for the blond's ID. Handing the plastic card over, the teen waited for the man to scan it into the system. In the meantime, the blond leaned against the counter. The inside of the small shop was no better than the outside, completely with filthy, cracked linoleum flooring and flickering light bulbs along with the overwhelming stench of alcohol.

Racks of things to buy- gum, chips, etc- were rusted and almost threatened to collapse with ever slight breeze. There were no refrigerators to keeps sodas cold; instead, there were no sodas. Reaching over to his left, Demyx grabbed a tattoo-watch packet from a rack, which groaned with the movement, along with a vial which the label proclaimed to be "Ink Removal Fluid" that he had to sort out from "Hangover Potions" before setting the pair gently on the counter just before the cashier placed his ID and the pack of Lea Reds down.

"Happy birthday," the man laughed, his grin lifting his cheeks in a way that could only be described as childish. "Lighter?" He motioned towards the small display, and Demyx nodded for the feathered Hybrid to drop one onto the small pile. "That'll be fifteen twenty-two," he announced, loading the things into a bag.

"Thanks," the blond laughed, setting the bills atop the counter. Collecting his change and his wares, the blond left the building with a shrug. On the way to his truck he gave the man behind the counter a wave, tugging the red packet from his bag along with the lighter, which was a depressingly semi-translucent baby barf green. Leaning up against his truck, he smacked a cigarette from the small box, holding it to his lips as he lit up. Breathing in, he allowed himself a few coughs before taking another drag.

Smoke coiled in the air before him. With no breezes to take the toxic fumes away they simply played in the space before him; lingering silver strands of nothingness alighting upon that which he should have been breathing. He idly thought that starting to smoke was a bad idea- that he should tell Zexion about it at one point- but the inclination dulled at the notice that his hands had stopped shaking and the deep sense of dread in his stomach had gone away.

It was a temporary fix, but it was just something to do when he didn't have the smaller boy at his immediate disposal. He'd had just a small taste of the smaller Hybrid but he was already addicted.

On another note, Demyx knew he made an image of that could be taken many ways. There was the irony- a young, healthy, semi-athletic teenager taking up smoking the moment he turned eighteen- and then there was something else. Something told him he must have looked along the lines of 'cool' to passerby.

He didn't like the fact that he knew why.

Finishing the cancer-stick, the blond flicked it to the ground, laying his foot atop the butt and putting out the last of the last of the embers before stepping into his car. He made his way back home, then, intent on a shower.

He ignored the fact that the worst of the damage to the little shop looked eerily recent.

**…**

Demyx hissed; he had forgotten how much removal fluid burned when he waited too long to apply it. The acid had easily slid through the two layers of skin over his arm and gotten to the ink of his tattoo-watch, but the watch itself had been in for far too long- already lagging by an hour- and had begun attaching itself to veins. Eventually his entire arm was engulfed in metaphorical fire with the searing of smart-ink. When the agony finally ground to a halt he was once again aware of the steaming water cascading down his body, tracing the lines of muscle, bone, and skin in ways he found himself silently begging of Zexion. The trembling in his limbs slowed, but did not still as he leaned against olive-green tiles. His fingers itched for company, be it Zexion or a cigarette.

The end of the first week of Winter Break was approaching, and Demyx found himself escaping for a cigarette nearly twice a day. He knew he was hooked, but there was nothing he could do about it. Stepping from the shower, the blond reached for the towel that lay atop a solid white toilet cover. Flooring of the same tile from the shower graced the flooring, nearly freezing his feet. With a shiver, he moved to dry his hair, only to be interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called.

"Mind if I jump in?" a familiar voice replied, voice muffled. Demyx grinned, fixing the towel around his waist before swinging the door open to pull the Hybrid into a warm hug. "You're wet," the smaller boy observed, doing nothing to pull away.

"I missed you," the blond replied, holding Zexion closer to him. Burying his face in soft slate hair, Demyx breathed in the younger teen's scent. A cat-like ear twitched, and he would have found it endearing if it weren't for that scent tingeing the edge of Zexion's cologne. Two things were out of place. One, Zexion didn't wear cologne. Two, that smell was oddly familiar.

Zexion chuckled. "So did I," he admitted slowly, too slowly, breath tickling Demyx's chest. It reeked of something else familiar, but Demyx couldn't identify it in the leftover haze of pain. Moments later faces met and lips danced. Not long after that they broke apart, and once again the blond was hit with the fact that something wasn't quite right with the younger boy. His tongue was clumsy, even when speaking, and his hands were unusually stiff. Zexion was nervous, trembling nearly as much as Demyx was. "I had to see you," he nervously gasped, looking straight into the blond's eyes. "Marluxia's been on this near-constant monologue since the bombing and-"

Time stopped. "Bombing?"

"Didn't you hear? A bunch of rebels blew up the Hybrid Committee Chairman's car."

The continuum seemed to crawl on its own as an awkward silence passed before it froze again. "Wait- how do you know Marluxia?" An incredulous look passed over Demyx's face as Zexion mumbled something about everyone knowing Marluxia. Then, something in the blond's head finally clicked in place. "Are you _drunk_?" he hissed, looking at the boy in a new light.

Looking shyly off to the side, Zexion mumbled a nervous, "Maybe…" Then, without warning, the boy's hands were on Demyx's hips, sliding the towel from its place at his waist.

"W- what are you doing?" the blond requested, grasping at the towel and looking down the hall for a witness.

"Trying to seduce you," was the retort.

A blaze of red broke out along Demyx's face as he grasped the hand the pried eagerly at the material he barely managed to keep up, dragging all that was attached behind him in a rush to his room. Closing the door behind them, the blond pointed to the bed. "Sit," he ordered, walking over to his dresser to retrieve some clothes. By the time he turned around Zexion was attempting to take off his. The winter coat was already off and pooled on the floor, but he seemed to be having trouble with a brown polo and appeared to be taking his pants off with his feet- which Demyx would refuse to admit looked very attractive considering he'd had no idea Zexion had that sort of flexibility. Clothes forgotten, Demyx set about making sure his boyfriend's stayed on.

It was harder than he thought it would be, and he eventually found himself pinned to the bed- towel somewhere across the room- with a leg between his knee and the shiver that had been plaguing him for the passed few days replaced with a rather pleasurable quake. At one point the Hybrid had moved down, and was eventually between his legs, urging the taller boy to clutch his hair as he brought him to near insanity. Demyx would also refuse to admit that there was a lot more laughing than he would have liked from someone sucking him off, even though it felt amazing.

But something was still wrong, and he couldn't bring himself to enjoy the familiar feel of lips around him. The shivers were there; they were just buried somewhere.

**…**

Zexion awoke with a hangover that could have been worse. A light pounding in his head was all that betrayed his drunkenness of the day before other than the fact that he couldn't tell where he was and the little realization that he was naked.

"Morning, sunshine," Demyx grinned from beside him, offering him a cup of steaming coffee.

Ah- so that was where he was.

"What time is it?" the Hybrid groaned, accepting the mug with vigor.

"Noon," the blond replied, glancing quickly at his tattoo-watch. This one glowed blue opposed to the green Zexion was used to.

"We didn't…" he trailed off, pointed to his obviously nude self. He silently thanked Demyx for keeping the light off.

Demyx laughed. "Drunk people don't make good bed partners."

"You would know," the Hybrid scoffed, recalling how Xion had acted at the party.

Demyx blinked. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," the Hybrid slurred, glancing quickly at Arpeggio. She was off.

The feeling in Demyx's gut kicked back into motion as the Hybrid's eyes wandered to his computer. Something was wrong.

Whatever it was, though, the blond didn't want to know.

He needed a smoke. Tugging the clothes he'd pulled from the dresser on- a band tee, some boxers, and a pair of jeans- Demyx grabbed under his mattress for his cigarettes. However, there was only one left in the box. Stuffing the box in his pocket, he made his way to the door.

"Where are you going?" the Hybrid inquired sullenly, lightly clutching his head as Demyx shuffled a bit with his shoes before opening the door.

"Convenience store- want to come? Or would you rather sleep?" Zexion collapsed back on the bed. Demyx laughed. "I'll be back in a bit." And with that he left.

As his boyfriend's footsteps receded, Zexion slowly worked his way from the bed, taking a seat at the computer chair. Pushing back the guilt that gnawed at his stomach, he whispered, "Arpeggio."

"_What is it_?" the woman snapped, screen blooming to life. The Hybrid winced.

"Could you be a little darker, please?" he requested.

As he asked, the screen dimmed until he could look at it without killing himself. Giving the computer a look, all he got in reply was, "_You said 'please.'_"

"Well, the time has come, I guess," he mused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a slip of paper. "I honestly had no idea I would get the chance to be alone with you so soon," he announced, unfurling the slip until it lay flat, revealing a set of directions and signed _Marluxia_.

"_Romantic, aren't you?_" the program hissed. Her icon wasn't on the screen at all that day. "_Get to it, already._"

Zexion grinned, placing the list where she could see it. "I think these directions are specific enough for you to follow."

There was silence before Arpeggio responded. "_I hope you know what you're doing._"

"Oh, don't worry," the boy replied with a smirk, shoving the paper back into his pocket. "I have no idea."

Government pages flashed across the screen at full brightness, blinding him in an instant. By the time he blinked the spots from his eyes the computer had already proclaimed, "_Done._"

"That was fast," he announced in awe.

"_Flattery will get you nowhere, Zexion_."

"Arpeggio." The screen went black.

The Hybrid turned his eyes to the walls, then, or- rather- to the curtains that hid them. Curious, he pulled them aside to reveal a wall full of photos. The next three revealed the same. He flicked on the light.

He only had about five minutes to find what he was looking for.

**…**

**Quiz Time: Who/What is "Arpeggio" in the original game?**

**Bonus Question: Would you guys like me to finish the original Return once I finish with _Return : Rewrite_ and _Plain Sight_?**

**Chapter 3 Winner(s): Dystopian Hope**

**End Notes: Short and late, I know, but oh well. ****Thanks, again, to Dystopian Hope for being **_**Return**_**'s beta! Remember;the link to the full version of this story can be found on my profile.**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


	5. Filching Notes

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: I'll write these later 'cause I really don't have time right now to check! I think there's nudity, though..**_

…

**Chapter Five**

…

There were too many photos.

That was Zexion's first and last thought as he scanned the massive walls coated with nothing other than his boyfriend's photography. Landscapes, family, him- there was too much to check before the far-off whirr of an elevator could be heard from down the hall. Quickly sliding the curtains back in place, the Hybrid flipped off the lights before collapsing atop the boy's bed, suddenly wary. _What's normal in this kind of situation_, he thought to himself. _Should I be asleep? Should I get up and greet him with a kiss? What?_ At a loss for anything to do that would satisfy his curiosity, Zexion attempted to appear as if he were sleeping as the blond walked into the room. _And why did he take so long?_

"You awake?" Demyx quietly inquired, moving slowly to the edge of the bed, picking his way through the darkness of the room.

"I am, now," the Hybrid replied, adding a sleepy drawl to his voice that was so obviously faked he nearly winced, though Demyx didn't seem to notice. The blond apologized, and Zexion idly reveled in just how _easy_ it was to mislead his boyfriend. He couldn't bring himself to care, though. It was just a part of him; that gullibility. "Welcome back," he mused quietly, preparing to press his lips to Demyx's as the older boy lowered himself onto the mattress. As the bed gave way to the taller boy's weight an unpleasant smell choked the Hybrid's nose, forcing him back before he could move forward to kiss the older boy. The sheets slid against his naked body as he did so, rustling in the darkness. "Have you been smoking?" he inquired with a sneer, pressing his hand to his face in an attempt to shield himself from the nearly overwhelming stench burning through his sharper Hybrid senses. Demyx winced, looking away from the smaller boy. "Have you been smoking?" he requested again.

"Yes."

"For how long?" the Hybrid asked, only to be met with silence once more. "How long have you been smoking, Demyx?"

The blond sighed, and his breath reeked of burnt tobacco and salt. "I started the day I turned eighteen," he admitted after a bit, daring to look the younger boy in the eye.

Zexion grimaced. "That's after we started dating," he deadpanned. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You don't understand! I-" he began, swallowing heavily. "I've been having these… these _shakes_ lately." His fingers fidgeted, looking for something to touch- like it was missing something. Before long the fidget turned to a twitch, and then a slight convulsion up his arm that traveled slowly, but surely, to the rest of his body. "I've noticed that the shakes stop when I smoke," he started, motioning to the twitching arm with a steady hand, "and when I touch you." Reaching out, he gently trailed a finger along the line of Zexion's jaw, then along a face that was stricken with horror, though he couldn't see it in the current lighting. Sure enough, the unusual movement in his arm ceased. "There's also been this feeling in the pit of my stomach lately when I'm not around you; like something's really wrong."

Zexion looked mortified- _was_ mortified. "But we've only been together for…" He trailed off, looking to the side.

Confused, Demyx tried to meet the Hybrid's eyes. "Do you know something?"

Looking up, the cat-eared boy gave Demyx a look. "What do you think it is?"

"Premonition," he replied simply, earning him an expression of shock, though he couldn't make it out through the shadows. "There's this horrible feeling that something is going to go very wrong very soon." Silence.

"What day is it?"

"Thursday, but what-" Leaping from the bed, Zexion moved to snatch up his discarded clothes from the floor, ignoring the eyes that traced his nude figure as he traveled through the light that shone from the open door. The movement resulted in a backlash of both gravity and karma as the remainder of his hangover, paired with a head-rush, raked at his brain, leaving him dizzy for a few slow seconds. "Where are you going?" the blond requested, stepping from the bed to catch the Hybrid before his legs gave out.

"Where do you think? I haven't been home since Monday," he paused, "I think," he managed, shaking the fuzz from his thoughts. "Our parties last a while longer than human ones."

Allowing the boy to step from his arms, Demyx sighed. He moved up to the desk, then glanced at the coffee mug he'd given Zexion nearly twenty minutes before hand; it was already cold, and not a single drop had been drunk. He found it odd, really, that it was there. Zexion had gone straight to sleep after he had gone, but it would have made more sense if the Hybrid had set it on the bedside table. Instead it was halfway across the room- a dozen or so feet out of his hung-over way. Not only that, but Zexion's pants were there, too, with a slip of paper not properly inside the pocket, almost as if it had been put there by someone drunk. The gnawing feeling was back. "Are you sure you have to go?" he asked, reaching for the pants. Taking them into his hands, the blond placed the slip into his own pocket.

Zexion looked to him, then the floor. At this point he was only in a pair of boxers, and was still an enticing sight to behold to the blond. The light from the door seemed to send everything about the Hybrid into relief; from how his tail would twitch from side to side- a nervous habit- to the way his ears stood at attention as if he were noticing something for the first time. In seconds the blond was there with him, holding the smaller boy to himself, smoothing their lips together. Gone was the foreboding _something_ that was slowly, but surely, grinding his stomach to dust. Before long, though, Zexion had pulled away, tugged the rest of his clothes on, and requested that the blond drive him home.

As soon as he deposited the Hybrid at his front step the feeling was back, feeding on his insides in a way Demyx could only classify as addiction. Rolling down the window, he lit up, taking drag after drag on cigarette after cigarette until he could be confident that the shaking in his hands was from the nicotine and not from something he couldn't name.

…

"We have a problem."

Glancing up from the multitude of glowing vials, swirling mixtures, and spiraling wisps of smoke, Cid took in the image of his son standing atop the stairs leading into his lab. The teen looked almost at home among the stone walls, rock floors, and concrete stairs that set a depressing uniform gray standard for the room- as if he belonged there, underground. However, he stood as if he were afraid the Earth would swallow him whole where he stood. "What's going on?" he asked, looking to the slight form of the younger Hybrid with confusion.

"I think…" he trailed off with a swallow, voice bearing the weight of a squeak usually found in a teenager's speech. Silence.

"Well?" Cid inquired, staring his son down. "If it's nothing then get out; I need to work on this shipment." Zexion straightened, then. It seemed out of character, his stance. Confident, commanding, and- in some strange way- sarcastic in his bearing; as if some switch inside him was flipped. The blond man didn't see any of this, though, as his eyes were trained on his instruments.

"Demyx has started smoking." Gone was the squeak; the light carry once evident in Zexion's voice. Instead it carried a weight, and every word nearly dripped with sarcasm despite their seriousness.

Turning to the smaller Hybrid, the man took in his son's stance. Sniffing, he turned back to his work. "I'm the last person you should talk to about this- I just make this stuff," he announced, peering into vial of Mako with rapt attention. "Go ask Marluxia for permission to get an appointment with Lucrecia- and you better wrap up this mission soon; your replacement sucks."

Moving from the basement, Zexion murmured on his way out, "You forget that _you're_ a replacement- and you suck just as much as he does." Glancing at the basement door, which slid into place to blend with the wall upon his prompting- but not before a small boy slipped by him. It was the new delivery boy; a rooster Hybrid. "Mr. Little," he greeted as the boy inclined his head in respect before descending the stairs. "Speak of the Devil," he chortled, making his way towards the phone base. He ignored how his feet grew heavier with every step, dragging his mood down to a place below his knees.

Moving through the kitchen, then the living room, he collapsed onto a bean-bag chair- a green one that sat next to the phone base. Snatching the handset up, the Hybrid deftly went through the motions of dialing Marluxia's number. He was met with a few short beeps, and then a man's voice.

"_Ferguson and Atkin-Downes residence; Larxene speaking_," a woman drawled over the connection.

"I wish to speak with Marluxia," Zexion announced. "It is important."

"_Is that you, Zexion?_"

"Yes, and if you could put Marluxia on the line that would be rather productive."

"_What flew up your butt?_" he heard her mumble crudely before shouting for the man.

There was a moment of quiet before the man arrived. "_To what do I owe the surprise, my beloved Cloaked Schemer?_" Marluxia drawled through the line.

"Demyx has begun smoking." A short space of time passed between them filled with nothing more than phone static.

"_Did you complete your assignment?_" the man inquired.

"Yes, however-"

"_Then he is of no concern to you._"

Silent rage filled the teen. "He started _smoking_, Marluxia, and he's been _shaking_. You know what that means! Do you not see-"

"_Of course I know what it means- I'm not an idiot_," the other hissed, effectively cutting off the boy. "_What I fail to see is the relevance such an event has to our current situation._"

"Demyx wouldn't be having such a problem if it weren't for-"

"_-the mission?_" he finished for him. Laughter ensued; it was a cold sound. "_My little Cloaked Schemer, you are the one who does not understand._" He laughed, again. "_You are done; there is nothing more tying you to that… __**boy**__._" The word was laden with malice. "_This façade of yours can end, because the moment either of you learn the truth of the other is the moment this cheap imitation of… 'affection,'"_ he spat the word as if it were poison, "_ you have for each other will dissipate into disappointment and rage. Besides,_" he chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. "_You knew this would happen, and if you proceed to be so irrational I might have to take a few precautionary measures._"

The line went dead.

Sliding his fingertips along his forehead, the boy attempted to alleviate the pressure building behind his eyes.

"Zexion?" a voice called from behind him, startling the Hybrid. Turning, he came face-to-face with his mother stepping through the door with an arm-full of groceries. "Are you alright?" she gasped, moving forward in haste until she could reach out with one arm to gently touch his face.

"Yes. Why do you ask?" he inquired, voice even.

"Because you're crying." Sure enough, he reached up and there they were.

Tears.

"Don't tell anyone about this," he mused, stepping away from the phone and shoving his hands deep inside his pockets as he made his way to his room, only to find something was missing. Turning out his pockets, the boy's eyes widened as he took in just what their being empty meant.

The instructions were gone.

…

Light filtered into the room from panels along the floor, casting soft blue shadows against the floor-length curtains that hid the walls. The effervescent glow was meant to be comforting, but it was anything but for the figure pacing the room incessantly. One foot in front of the other and repeat, occasionally mixing up the pattern with a squared corner, Demyx walked the length of the room over and over, all but memorizing the way the cool glass-metal mixture that cooled the skin of his toes muffled the force of his steps, heavy with rage. A slip of paper was clenched in his palm, and it seemed oddly in place with the moment.

Time passed. Hours, minutes- he didn't know. Every moment blurred into the next in his quiet fury.

Finally, he spoke.

"Arpeggio," he commanded, bringing the computer to life.

"_Harmonious welcomes, Demyx,_" she greeted, icon gracing him with a wide grin as the monitor flickered on.

"Don't you '_harmonious welcomes_' me," the boy snapped, voice calm and even despite his anger. His face didn't betray his anger in the slightest despite how he was so furious he could barely keep himself from beating the nearest object to pieces. "Does this look familiar?" he inquired, opening the slip of paper to the webcam in accusation rather than a request for confirmation.

There was a pause. "_Of course not_."

"If you keep lying I can reset your program, you know."

"_You must understand that I had no choice-_"

"You are _my_ computer, Peggy."

She winced, hesitated, then admitted, "_You weren't supposed to find out._"

"Find out _what_?" the boy hissed. It wasn't a question. Arpeggio remained silent. "What was I not supposed to figure out? That Zexion got you to hijack Radiant Garden's main computer- the DTD, of all things- or that he might possibly be _cheating_ on me?"

Arpeggio looked to the side. "_I don't know where you got the assumption that he may have connections outside of your relationship, but-_"

"I said _'_possibly,' and wouldn't you think that with a note like this?" he laughed, poison lacing his tone. Smoothing out the crumpled paper atop the desk, he squinted at the writing, illuminated by the computer screen. "'_My beloved Cloaked Schemer,_'" he quoted, reading directly from the page. "'_Below are your instructions for Arpeggio-_' and then it goes on about hacking into the DTD, which you already _know_," the boy spat, fixing the woman with a look. He turned back to the paper, then. "'_Once you are complete with your directive you are to break contact with the human and resume your usual duties. Love, The Graceful Assassin._'" He grimaced. "It's been three days and he hasn't picked up his phone _once_ which concludes the fact that I was just some tool!"

Arpeggio's icon bit her lip as she clenched her eyes shut as the screen behind her convulsed in a sort of beating pattern. Ignoring this, Demyx stared her down. She turned to him, then, fixing what would have been a gaze on the boy. "_He isn't Xion_," was all she said before shutting herself down, leaving him alone with the heavy weight of silence slipping iron into his feet.

Heaving a sigh, Demyx reached toward his back jean pocket for a cigarette, only to pull an empty pack from the denim. Groaning, he stood, making his way out of the room and into the elevator. The ride was a short one, unmemorable, but he soon found himself in the living room where his mother sat watching the morning news on the wall screen.

"Where are you going, Demyx?" she gasped, turning to him in surprise. "It's six in the morning."

"Going to grab a pack," he announced, holding up the empty carton for his mother to see. The woman scowled.

"I hope you didn't pick up this habit from that boy- Zexion. I liked him; he struck me as smarter than that 'Xion' girl you dated last year," she idly mused, turning back to the screen where they were showing an arrest.

"Don't bring her up," the boy demanded weakly, and he nearly left, but a quick look to the television brought a view of the clerk from the _Little Convenience Store_. "Hey- turn it up," he requested, staring at the screen in shock. Naminé nodded before pressing a few buttons on the remote.

"_-was discovered carrying deadly poisons through a residential area upon a search,_" the anchor monotonously stated, obviously not surprised by the events. "_Ace Cluck, a twenty-three year old Hybrid working full time as a convenience-store clerk in the Lowtown district of Rabenastre, was walking the residential streets of Radiant Garden when police asked him to open the bag. It was reported that the sound of glass clinking could be heard from several feet away, and when asked to cooperate the Hybrid fled. He was soon apprehended and large glass vials of poison, along with a large quantity of needles and syringes, were confiscated from the bag. Mr. Cluck has been placed in jail to await a sentence._" It then switched to a report on a salmonella outbreak, but Demyx didn't bother staying for that.

…

December air flooded Zexion's lungs as he made his way through residential Radiant Garden. Adjusting the bag that clung to his shoulder, he allowed himself a quick glance along the length of the block. No sound had come from the bag, but he was still paranoid. It was risky delivering a shipment when their last delivery boy had been apprehended not three hours before hand on the same route.

But Lucrecia was waiting.

Taking slow, deliberate steps was all he could do to prevent the shipment of Mako inside the messenger bag from making any noise. Padding, after all, would have made him suspicious. Thankfully the weather was giving him a break and there was no rain or snow to speak of. Through it all, however, there was a weight in his chest that was determined to drag his heart into his stomach, and it was as if there was lead in his feet that dragged the Hybrid's shoes along the ground with every step.

Flipping Lexaeus open, he looked at the prompt for an address on the screen before once again glancing around the block. Just as he thought he was alone, a car rounded the bend. It was a familiar car- a blue truck with marker all up the side proclaiming illegible things to the world. Ambling down the road, it sputtered. Inside was its usual blond driver, staring at Zexion with surprise as he steered it over to the Hybrid. Pulling up alongside the boy, Demyx laughed. "Need a lift?" he inquired, watched with humor as Zexion shoved his ungloved hands deep within his pockets. "What? Do you not trust me?" he laughed, gracing the boy with a grin. And with that, the heavy feeling in Zexion's stomach was gone, replaced instead with the bubbly feeling that seemed to accompany him whenever the blond was around.

Then the Hybrid recalled the missing instructions; Demyx had most likely found them and come to some kind of conclusion.

Despite how his gut screamed for him to stop, the small boy climbed into the car, tail twitching, ears back. "Where are you headed?" the blond requested.

"1342 Cloudborn Street," the boy supplied as the car pulled away from the curb. Neither spoke a word until they cleared the block. "What brings you here?" Zexion asked, looking to his boyfriend in surprise.

The blond shrugged. "Looking for a new convenience store to buy cigarettes. I was rather attached to the clerk of the last one, but he was arrested. You might have seen it on the news- caught with poison."

Zexion, perplexed, turned to look at him in shock. "Ace?"

"That's the one." Silence overtook the car for another minute or so. "So when were you planning on telling me about this? The whole 'blackmail my computer, hack into the DTD mainframe, and arrange some sort of 'meeting' thing?"

Ears perked slightly at the sound of Demyx speaking before flattening themselves to slate hair as they had before. Shaking his head, Zexion admitted, "I wasn't planning on telling you at all."

"I see…" he mused. Glancing over at the smaller boy, who looked significantly cowed, he moved onto another matter. "So who's this '_Graceful Assassin_' person?"

Zexion laughed. "He's our leader." Turning his eyes to the outside of the truck, the boy watched as house after house flew by.

Demyx blinked. "Okay; let me get this straight. You're carrying poison," he mused, pointing to the bag Zexion carried despite how the boy gaped like a fish at the insinuation, "are part of a group that most likely has Hybrids in it that definitely isn't controlled by the government," this had the Hybrid hesitating before he finally nodded, "and are hacking into government files."

"What are you going to do?" the boy snapped, drawing the blond's attention from the road for a split second. "Lynch me?"

Demyx slammed on the break, nearly sending the Hybrid into cardiac arrest as he lurched forward in his seat, only for the seat belt to attempt to force itself through his ribs. "Who told you about that?" the blond mused, attempting to keep his voice even. It was a hopeless endeavor as the sound wavered and died in his throat halfway through his last word as he choked on the word.

"But you regret it," the Hybrid attempted, unsure. After a bit, the car started up again, and turns were made before the car stood before a very familiar house.

"Here we are," the boy whispered, motioning towards the house. "Drop off your poison," he quipped, sparing the Hybrid a glance before turning his eyes back to their previous focus on the road before the truck despite how they weren't moving. Zexion nodded, and moved to open the door. Before he could leave, however, a warm hand was on his arm, and he could feel the older boy's warmth through the sleeve. Only four words came from the boy's mouth, but they were enough to send him into a form of panic. "We need to talk." There was no arguing with this.

Time to face the music.

…

**Quiz Time: What is "Mako" from and what is it/what does it do?**

**Theories Request: What do you guys think is happening?**

**Chapter 4 Winners: InjuUchiha, xXBleeding RoseXx, Dream Me Asleep, and Dystopian Hope. (Three layer cakes to you all! Why? Because my cookies always burn. T-T)**

**End Notes: It's unanimous- the original "Return" will eventually be finished. Big thanks to Dystopian Hope for being my lovely beta, again, on such short notice and to all of you who reviewed. Your comments kept me alive during sixteen-hour-long sprees of sewing, gluing, painting, and duct-taping my Cosplays for Kumoricon (of which you can blame for the short chapter,) which I will be staffing this weekend. I wound up making five Cosplays despite the fact that I'm only going to be wearing three to the con. One is for next year, and the other… I really don't know. XD Anyways, if you're going COME TO MY PANEL! It's at 12:30PM on Saturday; you can find it in the program. And if you're going, I'll be the Yuffie Kisaragi in Cosplay Chess on Monday.**

**Sorry this is short and late, guys!**

**With love,**

**Besieged Infection**


	6. Hypocrite

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

**_CHAPTER WARNINGS: Friends being idiots and light romance between two males._**

**…**

**Chapter Six**

**…**

Zexion stepped along the stone pathway to the Crescent's residence, still struggling to absorb Demyx's words.

_We need to talk_.

Words like those were ill tidings, leaving one with the impression of hands holding some form or weight above their head just itching to drop it through their skulls. Fingers twisted in his gut as he thought, _It was only a matter of time; this couldn't last forever_.

That simply emphasized the fact that he _wanted_ it to.

Heaving a sigh, the Hybrid turned his mind to the task at hand. Stone connected with his feet at an even interval as he made his way along the pathway up to the front door, a gentle _pitter, clack_ as with every other step a leaf crackled beneath part of his shoe. The lawn about him was long dead, as was the garden, and a thin layer of ice cloaked everything, leaving the world in sharp detail. Icicles hung from tree branches, clung to gutters, and made the ground just slick enough to be slightly treacherous. Glancing around, though, he was suddenly aware that the only portion of sidewalk that was iced was the front porch. He nearly shrugged the thought aside when an upturned bucket at the base of the Crescent's overhang came into view. As the Hybrid broke into a nervous sweat his eyes turned to the porch, tracing the line between the front door and the frame that revealed part of the living room; slightly ajar, but not quite open.

Backtracking to the car, avoiding as many leaves as was possible, the boy motioned for Demyx to get out of the truck. The blond, confused, simply stared. He did not move from his seat, only fixing Zexion with a look along the lines of _yeah, right_. The Hybrid motioned again, though with a bit more urgency.

In response, the blond reclined his seat. Racing around the car, Zexion tugged at the door handle, hissing as the cold metal froze the sweat that clung to his paw, fusing it to the car instantly. He tugged at the handle; no go. He stared at the vehicle incredulously, nearly in shock that something like that had actually _happened_. Pulling out a claw from his other hand, he attempted to chip the ice from his fur, only to come away empty-handed. Laughter met his ears as he gave up being gentle and began wrenching his body from the car in a hope that his hand would follow.

"How did _that_ happen?" the older boy gaped, rolling down the window to lean forward with grim humor as Zexion's messenger bag slipped from the boy's shoulder to weighed down the arm that was connected so unceremoniously to the car. Due to this exclamation he was on the receiving end of a glare. "What?"

"I was sweating."

"Sweat has salt."

"Mako eats salt."

Silence.

Laughter.

"Could you possibly _stop_ laughing, despite how you seem to be enjoying this," the smaller boy deadpanned, breathing deeply in an attempt to calm himself and clenching his eyes shut in futile attempt to block out the noise, "and _help_ me?" Without warning, the door opened, lightly slamming against Zexion's side as his boyfriend stepped from the car. Slapping the door shut, the human leaned forward to breathe at the seam of the Hybrid's hand and the handle.

Blinking, the Hybrid pulled a face. "What are you doing?"

"It's like when you freeze your tongue to a flag pole," the blond explained, focusing his breath into one long stream. "Breath some hot air on it and the ice will melt."

"Are you insinuating that you licked a flag pole?" There was no response to this. Minutes later the Hybrid was freed. Turning to his boyfriend, Zexion slipped the messenger bag's strap from his shoulder and pressed the strap to the taller boy's chest. "I need you to do something for me," the Hybrid whispered slowly, watching Demyx slip the strap over his own shoulder. "Inside this house is Ms. Lucrecia Crescent, and we are here to make cookies; chocolate-chip cookies." Demyx raised his eyebrows at the specification. "Inside that bag are the ingredients, and we're here to make them as a surprise for your mother, who just got over a cold." With this he made his way over to the house.

"Just what's-" Demyx began, racing after the Hybrid and drawing even with him.

Zexion's eyes bugged. "Quiet!" he hissed, covering the blond's mouth with a shaking gloved hand. "We can't let them know we're here, yet."

Nodding, the blond waited until the Hybrid uncovered his mouth to silently gasp, "Who's 'they?'" Following the Hybrid up to the door, the taller boy watched as Zexion paused, hand poised to knock.

Silence.

Zexion faced the older boy, then, arms stretching out to pull him into an embrace. Pressed a gentle kiss along the boy's ear he breathed, "I don't know, yet." The touch lingered, and Demyx could feel a sort of nausea roiling in his stomach at the contact. There were the butterflies in his stomach, yes, but there was something else that came from the touch; something dangerous. When Zexion pulled away he got a good look at an almost unearthly blue glow lighting the back of the Hybrid's eyes.

Something was wrong; very wrong.

Zexion knocked, called in a hello, and a police officer appeared in the doorway within seconds.

Silence followed the appearance of the man, who dominated the frame in a way he shouldn't have. He was tall, _very_ tall, with a bulk that took up a large portion of the doorway, also taking the time to hang over his belt in ways Demyx hadn't known was possible. His uniform was freshly pressed, creases and all, with a heavy-looking badge that proclaimed "Chief of Police" dangling ominously from the breast pocket, clinging to the bulging, over-filled shirt for dear life. What was most disgusting, however, was the greasy hair that hung in clumps around his face that made everything aside from his mouth and eyes a slimy, solid black mass. His eyes were nothing more than dull, ugly black beetles within the abyss, and jutting out from the greasy beard that seemed to be plastered below his mouth was a double chin that nearly formed a third row of flab below his- from what could be seen between clumps of hair- pasty white face that was so ugly it very nearly resembled a dog. To add icing to the cake, the man simply _reeked_ of some kind of dead, diseased animal.

"Officer Pete," Zexion announced in a voice attempting warmth, earning an equally cold nod and an ugly smirk from the man. "What brings you to uptown Rabenastre?"

"Scheduled checkup; got to make sure the civilian homes are safe!" the man announced with haughty self-importance. Giving a guffaw that would put a horse to shame, the man stepped out from the doorway and onto the paved walk, nearly causing Demyx to gag as his bulk readjusted itself with each step. As the sickness inducing jiggling in the police officer's body fat came to a merciful halt, the blond was able to catch the end of a conversation along the lines of making cookies and Pete attending, though he had duties so he couldn't. Reaching into his pocket, Demyx retrieved his camera and snapped a picture of the officer's retreating back before following Zexion through the front door. As it slammed shut, however, he was suddenly aware that coming in with the Hybrid had been a bad idea.

"What is _he_ doing here?" The words were spat, like poison, at the blond the moment the door met its frame. Silence reigned as Dr. Crescent stared the blond down, malice in her words and her expression.

A bright cherry, the walls of the living room grinned down upon the three scowling individuals. Pictures, paintings, and trim prettily smiled at them as they hung upon the plaster, setting a relaxed, cultured feel to the room. Wood flooring shined as if nothing were wrong, waxed to perfection, and translucent curtains allowed a look into the somehow beautiful winter-frosted dead garden while allowing a gentle pink light to filter into the room. Both Zexion and Demyx stood in a shaft of this rose-tinted light as they stood in the foyer. Lucrecia, who stood in the kitchen just across the way, had no such illumination.

With her back to the kitchen window, not three feet from the door leading into the basement, the woman's face was darkened by shadows. Though she was still beautiful there was something off about the way she clashed with the kitchen, which was perfect in its white-on-white uniform design. She looked to be a housewife, with her purple blouse conservative with its ruffles and embroidery and her no-nonsense skirt ending just below her knees. One inch heels finished the look with a gentle flair, leaving her to appear as if she were a very pretty Elementary school teacher; the kind everyone loved.

And yet the moment was frozen; dangerous.

"He gave me a ride." Sure, concrete- Zexion handled the words as if they were the only form of truth in the world; as if they were the kind of words Demyx could trust.

But that ship had long since flown.

Ignoring the Hybrid's words, Lucrecia laughed. Her face was pleasant despite the way it twisted in cruel humor and anger. "You think you can just pop in because you're Zexion's boyfriend?" she ground out, taking a step towards them. "Did you think you could just waltz in here after what you did to Zack?"

"He's not proud of what he did," a new voice interrupted, drawing three gazes to the basement entrance, which stood wide open to accommodate its guest. Red hair fell over blue eyes, which in turn met another pair. Kairi nodded to Demyx, then, before turning to Lucrecia. "Hurry up," she stated simply, looking to the woman, then Zexion before making her way back down the steps and disappearing. The brunette stiffened before following.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the smaller boy turned to his boyfriend. "What the hell did you do, anyway?"

Shocked, the blond looked down at him. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

"Zack," he began, shoulder slumping, eyes narrowing, "I lynched Zack."

"What does that even _mean_?" Voice taking on a whine to imitate his boyfriends, Zexion found himself rolling his eyes. Mentally, he scoffed at the immature picture he made. His act ended there, though, when Demyx literally deflated.

"I'll tell you later." As he attempted to follow the others into the basement, a small hand took hold of his elbow.

"You'll tell me _now_."

Silence.

"Time to face the music, Demyx," the Hybrid hissed, feeling a flair for the ironic flare through him at that moment.

"I killed him."

**…**

Screaming; that was the first thing that could be heard once the decent into the basement had begun. Rising and falling, it was a familiar, female voice; one that Demyx once heard every day. The noise bounced off the concrete walls, only to rebound against the opposite side and come right back at that tenfold. Demyx found himself clamping shaking hands over his ears to save them the agony, but the voice stopped as he made it to the bottom of the stairs. A screeching silence successfully filled the place of agonized wails.

"Look's like she's finally passed out," Kairi mumbled from beside a surgical table set in the center of the room, looking a bit shaken. Bags lined the underside of her eyes, calling attention to her unusually sunken cheeks; something the blond had not noticed during their encounter upstairs. Greasy, limp red hair hung around all of this, trailing across her face in a way that imitated Xion's bangs. Kairi's eyes, however, were bright and tortured, glued to a table in the middle of the room in a disturbing cross between disgust and hope.

The table was a sterile white, its shape solid and promising. In all truth it looked more to be an island, though with the surgical tools that rest atop it, along with a subject, treating it like a table, Demyx was obligated to refer to it as such. Getting a closer look at the subject, the blond bit back a wince. Clothed only in a sheet, Xion lay unmoving in the very center. Needles probed beneath the skin of her arms, turning the usual paleness a bright neon blue that couldn't be healthy. Tubes led from the needles, and the blond traced them to a set of IV bags, sitting in the corner with contents of the same shade as the girl's arm.

He looked down upon the girl as the other occupants of the room rushed about, prepping syringes, tubes, and cotton balls. Taking in everything from her face to the shape of her body; her skin, the line of the sheet over her, how her hair fell across her face…

Demyx heaved a sigh, suppressing the emotions that rose up within him; emotions that scrambled for his attention, twisting his stomach and curling his toes.

The definite clank of glass brought him from his observations, prompting him to look about until Zexion was in his sight. Pulling glass containers from the lining of his bag, the Hybrid handed them, one by one, to Lucrecia, who placed them into Kairi's arms. The blond tried to get the smaller boy's attention, but when their eyes finally met the other looked away quickly, refusing to look at him. Once the bag looked significantly lighter, Zexion nodded. Then, with quick turn on her heel, Kairi was headed right for him. He quickly leaped back from his spot beside the table, watching as the girl took his place and set the containers against Xion's arm. Once she moved he was able to get a good look at the things inside the glass, but couldn't bring himself to move forward. His entire body was on alert.

The containers themselves were no longer than his hand, and were as thin as his fingers, made entirely of class with pinched corners to keep the swirling _something_ inside. Within, a bright, luminescent green gas twirled dangerously, almost as if it were trying to escape. It leaped behind the glass, throwing its entirety against the glass before bouncing right off. The gas nearly seemed to live as it expanded until it were completely see-through, then shrunk into a small solid-looking bead before turning back into the wisps from before. Slipping his camera from his pocket, Demyx began to catalogue everything he could see.

That's when things got strange.

Faces were formed from lines of mist, moaning, pressing against their glass containers. Hands reached from the centers, sliding along the inside in an attempt to break their clear prison. Demyx could only watch in awe as different shapes formed one by one beyond the glass. Unfamiliar faces, shapes, and plants passed before his eyes. Then, just as it seemed to be a carousel of enjoyment to the boy, a familiar face slipped passed the glass, gazing at him with accusing, hollow sockets for eyes.

Slim features, high cheekbones, a solid jaw, and long, spiky hair flashed before his sight before it vanished in the slew of faces.

Turning to Kairi, the one person in the room he knew wouldn't snap at him, Demyx glanced nervously to the containers. "What is that?" he mumbled, nudging his head in the direction of Xion's arm, where Lucrecia now stood, taking the glass into her hands.

"Raw Mako," the redhead replied simply, selecting a syringe from a line of others, "from the Lifestream." She paused, then turned to look at him oddly. "Why? See someone familiar?"

"He saw Zack," Dr. Crescent snipped, eyes tuned to her work despite her harsh words. "I've seen him twice in the last few seconds." She paused. "You might want to get him out of here," the woman stated, motioning with her head for Zexion to remove his boyfriend.

"Right," the Hybrid mumbled, not at all enthusiastic. Making his way back towards the stairs, fingers flicking towards the blond in an order to follow, Zexion skipped steps, hurrying up to the doorway at the top. Once arriving there, he turned about, watching the older boy clear the frame. The door slammed shut, and Demyx soon found himself jostled off towards the car. Within seconds they were inside the vehicle, staring at the dashboard.

Silence.

Glancing over the Zexion, the blond cleared his throat. "Where to?"

"_We need to talk_?" the Hybrid hissed in mocking question, disbelief and mayhem written across his face as his hands shot out to grasp his seat. The definite sound of crackling leather came into being as his claws slid from their hiding place. His tail no longer switched side to side behind him, and his ears pointed straight down. "You have _got_ to be joking." He laughed, drawing a shiver from the taller boy.

"I'm not proud of what I did," the blond defended, eyes sharp.

"Look to your own faults before you accuse others of theirs," the smaller boy replied maliciously, a sadistic grin spreading across his features.

Demyx scoffed. "Faults? Right."

Chuckling, Zexion turned to the older boy. "What, pray tell, do you think this is about, then?"

"About what you're doing and what I've done," the human stated simply. "And what the hell _was_ that stuff, anyways? And why did I have to leave?"

"Unprocessed Mako," the smaller boy replied simply, taking his hands from their death-grip on his seat before doing something Demyx never thought he'd ever see; he started to preen. Licking one paw, Zexion brought it around the front of his face, cleaning his cheeks and forehead. "One whiff can kill a human- very painfully, I might add- and the reason the idea of a Hybrid was created." He laughed. "It was all over the place a few decades ago after this stupid company, Shin-Ra, accidentally broke the walls of the Lifestream."

"So…" Demyx paused. "It's poison?"

"From a political point of view, you could look at it that way," the Hybrid admitted, shrugging. "From the view of those who follow Gaia it's nothing more, and nothing less, than condensed, liquefied souls that have yet to be reborn."

Demyx sighed. "Religion; that's one thing I don't understand."

Zexion rolled his eyes. "The majority of you humans are atheists, these days; it's no wonder why." This was said with sarcasm, malice. "With all that hypocrisy you would think you would have a room for a bit more."

"You're one to talk."

Silence met this comment.

Giving the blond an odd look, Zexion stopped preening long enough to gape. "Did you just call me a hypocrite?"

"You're getting on me about killing Zack- which was _years_ ago, I may add, and I'm not proud of it- but whatever you're doing can't be good, from what I've seen." He laughed, a nervous sound. "Heck, for all _I _know you're filling Xion with Mako to be, like, a bio-weapon, or something!"

The Hybrid turned away. "How do you expect we do that?" he requested, voice shaking despite his conviction.

"Simple," the blond replied, shrugging. "Her bones are hollow."

Zexion rounded on him, then, leaping from his seat to pin Demyx with surprising strength against the door. "How do you know that?" he hissed, hands twisting menacingly in the older boy's coat

"I got her pregnant at one point; you think I don't know her body?" he joked. Silence met this announcement, and Demyx's face softened as he looked upon the smaller boy. "I thought you knew."

Nodding, the smaller boy's face twisted in confusion. "Xion told me," he clarified, his grip on the older boy's jacket going slack as the words escaped. "I just…" Backing away, the Hybrid settled into his seat. "I thought you didn't know."

Demyx's eyebrows raised in surprise as he shook his jacket out, straightening in his seat to place a key in the ignition. "Didn't know? That's why we broke up," he sighed. "I wanted to keep the baby; take care of it."

Silence.

"Then why do the others hate you?" Zexion inquired, watching as his boyfriend adjusted the rear-view mirrors.

Scoffing, the blond turned the car out of its spot on the side of the road, taking them into the street at a gentle pace. "Because I killed Zack." The words were stated simply, lacking the weight they should have held. A brief silence passed between them. "So," the blond began, "where are you headed?"

**…**

"Has it ever occurred to you that you're a murderer?" Photos littered the floor, organized in their own, messy way. Demyx's room was, for lack of a better word, dominated by his photography as he sorted the newest photos, still hot from the printer, and posted them to the wall. Searching about the room for specific photos to hang, the blond nodded. At the boy's reply, the Hybrid gaped. "How do you function?"

Demyx laughed. "How do _you_ function?" he retorted, selecting a specific photo from the mass. "I eat, breath, sleep, and generally move along with my life. One detail doesn't mean I should live any differently than anyone else."

"_I still don't understand what's going on_," Arpeggio announced from across the room, icon heaving a sigh as she leaned back into her comfy chair. "_So you know he killed this _Zack_ person, but you don't hate him_?" A quick shake of the head from Zexion earned a roll of the eyes. "_Great; this just proves that you're **perfect** for each other, then_," she groaned, sarcasm dripping from her words in torrents.

Ignoring the AI's comment, Zexion turned to the older boy. "Do you think Peggy could work some of her magic on Lexaeus?" he inquired, retrieving the small computer from his messenger bag to show Demyx. "I think he's crashed."

The blond didn't so much as glance over before the aforementioned AI laughed, her screen extension breaking into a big grin. "_You have a computer? Plug him in! Plug him in!_" she shouted joyously, pointing down to the hard-drive with vigor. Twin looks of surprised amusement pointed at the program that didn't bother to mask her excitement as Zexion walked over and connected Lexaeus via HDMI data cording. Jumping, the program on the screen seemed to freeze.

"Peggy?" Demyx asked, making his way over to the computer with shock as the entire screen seemed to stop moving. "Peggy, what's wrong?"

"_I'm going into stand-by mode_," she announced, startling them both as the screen remained frozen. "_I'll come back on in about three hours; don't disconnect Lexaeus_!"

The monitor went black. Glancing over at his boyfriend, who was busy taking in the sight of a black screen, Demyx examined the smaller boy.

Both ears and tail were still without the gentle, nervous twitch that once accompanied them, and the light fur that covered his skin in a gentle gray sheen was more along the lines of a light periwinkle that dusted shadows along the pale softness beneath. A light shadow traced the underside of his eyes, his nose was a bit more pronounced than he had last seen, and his lips were fuller than he'd ever seen them, though they were still rather thin. Big, blue eyes hid beneath periwinkle bangs, which he remembered used to be a subdued lavender, and through it all was an ethereal light that seemed to shine from every bit of him in a way that reminded him of the Mako from the basement, but more subdued, and blue. It fluctuated in his hair, his eyes, and beneath his skin almost in a patter, sending light shadows across the floor. In that moment of observation, the blond came to the conclusion that he had never seen the Hybrid as beautiful as he was then.

Yet through it all, he felt only a trace of the affection he used to have for the boy. Gone were the flutters in his stomach. Missing was the nearly-painful throbbing of his heart against his ribs. Non-existent was the urge to reach for the boy; to touch him, hold him, and kiss him until they were both silly from a lack of oxygen.

Instead, he thought of Xion.

From the way her hair fell into her eyes to the angle in which she used to look at him, he thought of everything. Hair, face, eyes, skin, toes, and stomach- both normal and pregnant. He thought of everything, nearly worshipping them in his mind as he thought back.

He thought back to how she looked when he slapped her; when she'd gotten the abortion behind his back.

Shaking the unkind memories from his head, he slowly reached for Zexion, if only to prove his point that he had moved on; that he was happy.

Fingertips traced along the smaller boy's cheek before he cupped it, making his presence known to the Hybrid. Electricity exploded along his palm, sending a jolt into his heart as Zexion turned into his touch with a sharp gasp and a bite of the lip. Eyes clenched shut as a furred face nuzzled his fingers, pressing soft lips against the tips as a hand came up to cup his.

Then Zexion looked up, irises nearly glowing, and fixed Demyx with a look so filled with longing that the blond nearly cried.

"I love you." The words had slipped from Demyx's mouth before he could stop them. Thought they seemed to him to be a lie, they felt, tasted, and sounded like the truth. "I love you," he said again as Zexion's face seemed to collapse in on itself and a tear leaked from the Hybrid's eye. "I love you."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Zexion smiled. "I love you, too," he whispered as he flung himself into Demyx's chest, throwing his arms around his waist as he pulled the older boy close, "so much."

We just sat there in silence for a bit, taking in each other's presence.

**…**

**Quiz: Do ANY of you know what's going on? Please; explicate. If you get it right you win!**

**Chapter 5 Winner(s): Dystopian Hope and xXBleedingRoseXx got the closest; the rest of you kept giving me the definition of Materia. XD**

**End Notes: A bit fat thanks to Clarrolx for being the last-minute beta for this chapter. My usual beta, bless her soul, didn't respond to my E-mail. (Mostly my fault; it was totally last minute.) Also, I DO realize it took well over a month to crank out this chapter, but keep in mind that I have school, now. (As I have been ranting about for the past month or so.) Onto the good news: this chapter signifies the story's near completion. Only one (or two) chapters left and then I'll start writing/posting Plain Sight. I hope you all stick around for the sequel!**

**WARNING TO REVIEWERS: Just... don't make any comments about Xion's character, please. We've already had one too many a discrepancy about this.**

**Love,**

**Besieged Infection**


	7. Mako

**:: Return ::**

**A story by Besieged Infection**

**Standard Disclaimer Applies**

_**CHAPTER WARNINGS: References to sex, general romance between two boys, and character death.**_

…

**Chapter Seven**

…

Stepping lightly around a planter, Demyx slid down the hall away from his room and toward the elevator, Zexion in tow. It was nearing midnight, and upon the realization that Zexion's parents- or, rather, his mother- would be expecting him home or fear the worst the pair had quickly jumped into the shower and thrown some clothes on, lest their actions from the night be revealed to the world on a silver platter. Least to say, such an event would have been slightly mortifying. As it were, they couldn't seem to creep quiet enough for Demyx's nerves. Every other step drew a gentle, muffled _pomp_ from their socked feet, nearly driving the blond insane with every nearly silent second.

Despite his paranoia the world dragged on around them, eerily quiet as if to sneer at his anxiety. When the pair finally got to the elevator the Hybrid let out a sigh of distress, only to tense up as the blond passed the machine entirely. "I thought we were taking the elevator," he commented as quietly as he could, pointing to the cold steel doors with one sneaker-wielding hand.

"Too loud," the older replied, his voice an even gentler whisper. "We'll take the stairs." Pointing to a door at the end of the hallway, he motioned for Zexion to follow as quickly as possible. The wood floors nearly made the boy slip as he hurried down the hall after his boyfriend, but when the Hybrid received a light kiss on the nose for his efforts he deemed the rush worth it.

Taking hold of the doorknob, Demyx eased the door open, wincing when it gave a long, loud creak. "We don't use the stairs, much."

"This house is five floors," the Hybrid mused. "I don't blame you."

Slipping their shoes on, the pair slipped onto the staircase, closing the door as softly as they could behind them. Not unlike a company's staircase, the walls were an off-white that screamed "trying too hard" with black numbers spray-painted at the top of every floor to designate which was which. The number before them read "3" in a very blocky, very generic font. Carpets of an off-white that was no more than a single shade lighter than the walls, if not the shade itself, shielded what was obviously concrete from view, leaving one with the impression that they were standing in animal remains.

"Mom never got around to redesigning these," Demyx noted. This observation was shortly followed with a wince as his voice seemed to bounce from every wall twice before finally reaching their ears. It came accompanied with a light ring that signified that the guard-rail was vibrating from the noise.

Zexion rolled his eyes. "No talking," he whispered as near the older boy's ear as he could reach, standing on tip-toe so much as to come up to Demyx's ear-lobe. The blond laughed, pulling the Hybrid into his arms and sweeping him into a kiss that left both their heads spinning by the time he moved away.

"Got it," the boy gasped, leaning his head against the Hybrids before placing his boyfriend back onto the floor and making his way downstairs. When Zexion made no move to follow he gave a gentle chuckle.

Shortly after the Hybrid found himself being carried piggy-back- though he couldn't bring himself to mind. Soon, they were on the first floor, opening the door to reveal the magnificent foyer. The prominent _clip, clop_ of Demyx's shoes could be heard from any corner of the room, though the blond didn't worry as he didn't see a soul in sight.

"Demyx," someone announced from off to the side. "I wasn't aware you had a guest." Two pairs of eyes shot over to the source of the voice, taking in the figure of Mr. Atkin-Downes and he stood in the kitchen doorway wielding none-other than a pint of lemon-meringue ice-cream, a smug expression, and a spoon. "Please; join me for a refrigerator raid," he offered, motioning towards the kitchen with the hand wielding the spoon, his accent leaving the two slightly befuddled. "I do believe the Orange Sherbet is about to expire."

Demyx jumped at this. "I'm in," he announced quickly. "I didn't know we had ice-cream…"

"I didn't either," the man admitted with a scoff. "They're your mother's." He turned to Zexion. "You in?"

He paused, torn between their trip home and the sugary treat. "Is there possibly any lime?"

The man laughed good heartedly. "I'll see what I can do," he replied honestly, motioning for them to follow him into the kitchen. Demyx padded after his father, sporting a grin.

"Think I could drive you back in the morning?" he suggested, allowing the boy to slip to the floor as they reached the kitchen island, which already sported a spoon and a pint of Orange Sherbet, which Demyx nearly attacked. A bleached white mahogany hardwood clacked beneath the smaller boy's feet as he made contact, moving soon to take a seat at one of the white leather barstools that lined the white marble island. All around the room everything was a vibrant white. Thought it reminded the Hybrid of a hospital he couldn't bring himself to think of the room as one. Something about it simply breathed that it was home. "We could call; leave a message." Sliding the top from the icy treat, he spooned a large portion into his mouth with a squeal of excitement that nearly had the younger boy chuckling.

After Zexion got over this urge, he shrugged, adjusting his position so that he wasn't half hanging off the chair as he watched Luxord rifle through the freezer. "Sounds good," he admitted, eyeing the boy as he shoveled ice-cream into his mouth.

"Aha!" Mr. Atkin-Downes exclaimed happily, tugging a small pint-sized container from the freezer with exuberance. "You know, his mother hoards this stuff in the back of the freezer- been doing it for years- and forgets about it. Naturally," he announced grandly, "_someone_ has to dispose of it!" Dropping the pint on the counter, which was indeed Key Lime, along with a spoon, he watched Zexion for a response.

A small smile, miniscule in width, was all the man received as the boy politely removed the top and scraped the treat into the spoon. Then, placing the spoon upside-down onto his tongue, he licked it clean before returning the utensil for another scrape. A comfortable silence ensued as the man finally retrieved his own pint and dug in. For a long period of time only the _bonk_ of the bouncing of cardboard on marble could be held every time they dug in, and the occasionally non-soundless scrape made by Zexion were the only sounds that could break the relaxing monotone.

"You know," the man remarked a good amount of time later, finishing a glob of his Lemon Meringue, "I was invited to host the Q and A session this weekend. I have some box seats for you and your boyfriend since Naminé doesn't want to go." Zexion sputtered, but this was not heard over the deafening silence that followed this comment.

"They're going to ask you to be Governor again, aren't they?" It wasn't a question; not with the way poison dripped from the words.

"I can make a difference this way-"

"Not with Ansem and Xehanort on the Committee-"

"There are ways around him."

"Yeah; like getting outside a circle!"

"There are ways of getting outside!"

"This is just another way to stay _inside_ the stupid-"

"I'm going to accept." The moment was charged, violent, and Zexion very nearly looked away from the spectacle of the two fighting. Luxord turned to the Hybrid, then, looking a bit ashamed. "Sorry about this," he amended, looking the part. "It's just that my son and I have never seen eye to eye."

Demyx scoffed. "Doesn't really make sense, though; we're the same height."

"That comment was not appreciated," the man snapped, turning a sharp eye to his son.

Cowering a bit before his father's gaze, Demyx turned his eyes to the floor. "Sorry." Jumping from the island, Zexion turned to the door. Shocked, the blond's watched him make his way to the exit. "Where are you going?"

"Home," the Hybrid replied, ear flicking lightly at the word. "There's something I have to do."

"Can it wait?" the older boy asked, drawing a confused expression from his father. Zexion stared up at him, then, looking him straight in the eye. There was something in that gaze that clicked with Demyx, then. "I'll drive you," he volunteered. "Thanks for the ice-cream, Dad." With that thrown over his shoulder, he hurried his boyfriend out the door before his father could make any more comments.

…

Midnight had fallen upon Zexion's suburb just as it did with any other that night: with little clamor, the streets deathly silent, barren of any cars or pedestrians. A thick layer of snow sat heavily upon the roads and roofs, leaving the world muffled in its own blanket of white. The tires of Demyx's truck left gray-brown lines on the road beneath them where it compressed the layers into a sheet of ice. Through the quiet two boys held hands in the confines of the older one's truck, breathing mist into the air before them as they swirled patterns onto one another's palms.

The tension from the kitchen had not been forgotten, but had, instead, been pushed aside for the time being to allow for the comfortable moment of nearness they had been allowed. Glancing at the clock, Demyx read that it was nearing one in the morning. He cleared his throat, earning Zexion's eyes. "Winter break's over in three days," he commented lightly. "Think I could spend the night- or, umm, morning- at your place?" The implication was not lost on Zexion as they pulled up before his house.

Leaning forward, the two boys met in a tender kiss, their cold-chapped lips slowly brushing against the others'. A trill of pleasure traveled the length of the Hybrid's spine, calling to his mind their actions not five hours hence. He allowed a grin to grace his lips as the promise of ecstasy tainted his thoughts. Pulling away, though, he bit his lip. "I can't," he groaned in answer. "I wish I could, really," he amended as Demyx looked to the floor in embarrassment. "It's just that I have to do something tonight. Work." When the older boy didn't look up from his feet, Zexion slid his forefinger along the length of his chin, guiding their faces together for a warm, wet kiss that left them trembling. When they finally came apart, the Hybrid rested his head against his boyfriend's. "You were _amazing_ last night," he gasped, staring right into the boy's eyes. "It's just that I have things to do, and if you're around I'll never get them done."

The implication was not lost on the blond. "I love you," he whispered, pecking the younger boy's lips as the Hybrid whispered the words right back. Another warm kiss later and the boy left, leaving Demyx alone in the car to watch him go in, clenching his hands against the steering wheel in an attempt to stop a fit of violent shaking.

Snow crunching beneath, and into, the Hybrid's sneakers, the younger boy slowly made his way up to his front porch, blissfully unaware of his boyfriend's distress. By the time he focused on his surroundings rather than the pleasant throbbing in his lips he was already in his room, unpacking the contents of his bag. Snow was beginning to fall outside once more, and he whispered a quiet prayer to Zalera to wish Demyx a safe ride home. Once that was done, he rifled through his bag, searching through the contents before tugging out his computer, Lexaeus. Grinning, he flipped the pocket-computer open.

"Power on," he commanded, waiting eagerly for the screen to flicker to life and reveal the improvements Arpeggio had made to the software. When nothing happened, the boy simply stared at the screen. "Power on," he directed again with no fruits to show for his effort. Blinking, he sat for a moment in his perplexity. "Lexaeus?"

"_Present_," a deep voice responded from the small speakers. The screen burst to life, revealing to the boy an icon of a heavily-muscled man with orange hair swooping back from his face. Beady eyes stared out at Zexion, leaving him slightly uncomfortable. "_You have one message,_" the man stated, leaving Zexion's mind jumbled.

"A message?"

"_Would you like to read it?_"

Silence.

"Umm… sure?"

Tabs opened at the bottom of the screen at a rate that the Hybrid couldn't follow. "_Harmonious welcomes, Zexion_," the sarcastic voice of Arpeggio greeted the boy. "_Well, everything voice-activated, now. Just make sure to call Lexy 'Lexicon' when using him and stuff, okay? Open tabs by your touch screen,_" the tabs at the bottom flashed, "_or by telling Lexy what to open. That's about it. Good day._" Zexion sighed.

"She really doesn't like me."

"_Who?_" Looking to Lexaeus in shock, Zexion shook his head.

"It's nothing. Um…" He trailed off. "Lexicon?"

"_Yes_?" He was already aware of the nickname, it seemed.

"Could you do a search for the blueprints of a gas mask?"

"_Right away_." Compared to Arpeggio, Lexaeus was very… monotone. The job still got done, though, as within seconds he was presented with a page on the design of gas-masks, bringing him from his observations.

Zexion blinked. "Would this work for heavy gases?" A knock at his door tore him from the screen. Jumping, he looked to the entrance of his room, only to find the door already wide open and his mother standing there, back tall, tail calm at her side. "Mom," he greeted with a smile.

"Thanks for calling," she quipped with good nature.

Wincing, Zexion graced her with an apologetic grimace. "Sorry," he managed, looking down at her feet. As he did this he missed the transformation in her face from sarcasm to a serious mask of indifference.

"You were told not to get attached."

Wincing again, the boy didn't look up as he responded. "I know."

The woman glanced at the screen, then, and she sighed heavily. "For your sake, I hope that works."

Long after she had left, Zexion stared at the blueprints. They were ancient; long passed their time, they were bulky and wouldn't do for the heavier compounds they would be encountering not soon after. Setting to work, the Hybrid bent over his desk, making sketches and outlining wire-mechanisms.

…

The world was falling apart around him, Demyx found. Photos lined the walls around him, but he could find no meaning to them. Reaching for the paper, cigarette in hand, the blond ripped them down, throwing them into a cardboard box he'd grabbed from downstairs. Something was different about the boy: his eyes weren't quite focused, and he didn't bother with doing the job neatly. Some photos fell to the floor.

Eventually, to get to the pictures higher up he grabbed a ladder, and his steps were heavy, leaving the tool to wobble ominously with each step. He fell multiple times, but nothing seemed to break him from the stupor. A fog enveloped his brain, and there wasn't anything in him shouting at the boy to stop. Although a voice might have been in his subconscious for him to put them back up, he continued on, intent on removing the catalog of his life from the immediate space around him. There were no more reminders of mistakes, first kisses, or old friendships gone wrong.

Bringing the box out into the back yard, he flicked the cigarette atop the pile and watched his memories burn.

…

Knocking on the glass of the gatekeeper's room, Zexion watched in amusement as old Maurice startled awake, snorting and snuffling before giving a great sneeze that fogged up the window. The Hybrid laughed, bending forward to speak into the microphone, before pausing to adjust the package under his arm. "Good morning, Maurice."

"Doggarn it!" the man exclaimed, attempting to disentangle himself with his over-coat, which had somehow managed to envelope his arms and flip several times to resemble a knot. "This stupid thing- I-I'll be with you in a second!" he stuttered, hands reaching awkwardly about the coat. "I just need to- ah!" With the pull of a drawstring he was released from the coat's vice-grip and could look directly at the fog on the glass, which had remained since he'd sneezed on it. Zexion watched on with amusement as the man reached beneath his desk to retrieve a squirt bottle and a rag, which he used to clean off the glass. "I assume you want in?" the man presumed upon getting a good look at the boy.

"Yes; that would be nice," he replied, attempting to ignore the way his clothes were beginning to freeze to his body.

The man chuckled. "I'll call a car down." Minutes later, the Hybrid said his goodbyes to the man and made his way into the retrieval car- which was _not_ a Porsche- at the insistence of a driver who obviously didn't want to jump from the car for a Hybrid. Before long, he was before the blond's large, intimidating house, which he usually walked right into without blinking. However, the scent of burning spun in his nostrils, spiking acid into his brain as the smell pierced through him. Wincing, he looked around for the source, only to find nothing. Glancing down at the package in his gloves, he raced around the building, intent on discovering whatever was the source of what smelled like photo paper and cigarettes; the two things he'd been associating Demyx with as of late.

His efforts were soon rewarded when he turned the corner around the house. There Demyx was, staring at a box of photos as they burned. Fire licked just outside the cardboard, but didn't go any further than that. They reached for the sky, asking for more fuel; more things to consume; anything. Instead, they got a stoney, lack-luster stare. When a flame licked a bit too close to his boyfriend, Zexion lunged, turning Demyx away from the flames, only to be met with a gaze as blank as paper. Flinching, the Hybrid stared deep into the boy's blank eyes.

"This is my fault," he whispered, biting his lip as the blond didn't respond. When he tried to take off a glove he was shocked to find that it had already adhered to his hand, the ice forming a seal around his knuckles and wrist. Hissing a curse, he tugged harder, only to come away unsuccessful. He heaved a groan, looked up at the boy in anger. "Why the _hell_ did you go and get this bad on me before I could get you into the lab or something?" His bad language shocked even himself, but the boy simply ignored it, going back to tugging even harder at the glove.

No go, but the fire had settled and was now nothing more than cinders.

Nothing remained.

He paused, then, glancing up at the older boy before focusing on the glove. "'Like when you get your tongue stuck to a flagpole,' right?" he chuckled, giving himself a moment to savor the utter irony of the moment before bringing his glove to his mouth. Focusing his breath into a thin stream, he blew into the seam between his wrist and the glove. When the fabric was finally free, he sighed. "I'm just causing you all sorts of trouble, aren't I?" With that, his hand slid into Demyx's, and he watched the boy's eyes come to life.

The blond looked to him with expectancy. "What just happened?" he deadpanned.

"I'll tell you later," the Hybrid replied, tugging him towards to house. "Right now we have a meeting to attend."

…

The room had been packed to overflowing, most of which being populated by humans. An occasional Hybrid could be seen filling in the few gaps in the crowd, drawing Demyx's eyes from where they had originally rested; on the stage, where his father stood appraising the group and, behind him, the Exceptions Committee board sat. Through it all there was a small comfort in the back of his head and through his body. Gone forever were the shakes, the cigarettes. Instead, his fingers lightly traced to lines in Zexion's left hand, loosely held in his beneath their seats.

Reporters were still milling about in the front row, lining the pedestal with their bodies in at attempt to get the best seat for the conference. Company names were spouted at rates that nearly had Demyx reeling, but he kept this to himself.

One reporter, to Demyx's chagrin, simply pulled out a lawn chair and placed it directly in front of his father before seating themselves in it, completely invisible to the arguing gaggle of columnists despite the fact that they were nearly five feet closer to the stage than anyone else. Tracing nervous fingers along his boyfriend's palm, the blond looked about. Something about how the Hybrids were acting- or holding themselves, really, with their heads held high as if they knew something the humans didn't- seemed oddly final. Zexion's expression didn't help, either. A cross between serious, anxious, and excited, the boy's face was nearly comical.

He couldn't help but fidget.

As the noise hit a high point, the catlike Hybrid leaned over to whisper into the taller boy's ear, voice low. "I figure you should know," he began, licking his lips to wet them as they suddenly went dry, "that this conference was what I had Peggy arrange three months ago." Demyx didn't dignify this with a response as his body went tight, then relaxed. "The location, the guest list; everything is under our control." The world melted away, then, as the blond thought back.

_Arpeggio, poison shipments, surgical devices in Dr. Crescent's basement, and…_

Xion stepped up to the stage, drawing Demyx's eyes. In her hands she held a plate of cookies.

…_hollow bones?_

"Why?" was all the boy requested. This only earned a strained laugh as Zexion looked upon the spectacle with him. The dark-haired Hybrid was walking right up to the Committee, offering them the cookies.

"Don't worry; the cookies are not poisoned," Zexion mused as the Committee declined, but his father took a confection and bit into it, nodding to the girl and thanking her before asking her something, though it couldn't be heard over the noise from the reporters. She was sweating. "That plan would be a bit rickety, don't you think? If a single member declined then we would be out of luck. Besides," he laughed, "the guards aren't going to stop a little '_human_' girl from showing her thanks to the Committee. What we're doing is airborne."

_Airborne._

_Hollow bones._

_Poison._

_Xion._

_People are going to die, today,_ Demyx thought.

Finger halting in its travels, the blond looked to the Hybrid in shock. "You're sweating," he stated quietly, moving from the current topic. Zexion didn't answer.

_I might be one of them._

Silence fell over the room as a single Hybrid woman shouted for silence, standing from the rest of the crowd. Blonde hair gently fell to her shoulders, framing a stubborn face with shocking green eyes. She was beautiful in a human way, and the only thing that gave her away as a Hybrid were a pair of elongated fangs revealed by her sadistic grin and a peek of scales beneath her hair. Demyx couldn't see any of this, standing behind her, but he did recognize a raised arm that held aloft a radio switch and the fact that it was his sister.

Whether or not he recognized them in that order, he would never recount. As her finger descended on the trigger, Zexion pressed something into his face, fastening laces beneath his hair.

"Will I need this?" he asked seconds later, refusing to look at the stage as a solid _crack_ rang through the air. His voice was muffled through the mask, and he could barely see Zexion, who held his copy of Nobodies as if it were a bible, through the eyeholes. It was bulky and grayish with a design he'd only seen in history books.

It was a gas mask.

"I don't know," the Hybrid replied, looking to the stage. Following the boy's gaze, Demyx watched as the reporter in the lawn chair fell to the ground coughing as an opaque, vibrant green mist enveloped the stage and began to make its way through the room. "It's never been tested with airborne Mako. There was no need; the entire AVALANCHE crew is made up of Hybrids, and therefore we are immune."

_AVALANCHE._

They sat in silence as the entire crowd started to panic, running for the doors in their flight. "Shouldn't I run, then?" the blond shrugged, pointing to the nearest exit. This earned him a shake of the Hybrid's head.

"The doors are locked, and manual bombs are being placed throughout the city as we speak." He glanced over to the side, then, and Demyx followed his gaze. Kairi sat only a few seats away from them, crying. "The only reason we had to use Xion for the first bomb is because we couldn't get the Mako in any other way. It'll take a lot of surgery to get her back to normal." The mist was getting closer.

_I might die, today._

Pressing his hands close together, Zexion kneeled in the space between his seat and the one in front of him. Mumbling under his breath, he began to pray. Looking down at the Hybrid, Demyx took a deep breath. He took the smaller boy into his arms, then, pressing him into the curve of his torso until they fit just right, as they always had. He was sweating in his clothes, and it finally occurred to him why Zexion had instructed he dress warm.

Something draped over the exposed back of his head, then, and he looked up to see a flash of red hair before it was gone.

He turned back to Zexion with a smile, then, content with the thought that he'd at least gotten Kairi's approval.

Sound escalated, and people were pounding on the doors even harder as the mist approached, promising what appeared to be death. Some stepped into the green fog, taking deep breaths and falling to the floor, while some threw the people grouping at the doors behind them in at attempt at self-preservation. Through all of this, Demyx and Zexion clung together, the Hybrid's gentle prayers lost in the noise of the room.

The mist arrived.

There was a foul taste of air, but beyond that there was no change in the blond's breathing. "It's okay," he whispered, making a movement to separate from the smaller boy.

"Don't," the Hybrid commanded, pulling him closer.

They stayed like that until the doors opened, hours later.

…

"Why is he alive?" The voice was sharp, spiteful, and horribly familiar to Demyx's ears. "I'll tell you why he's alive; he's alive because you had to go off and get attached. I _specifically_ ordered you not to get carried away!" Marluxia's voice was rather hard to misplace, after all. "He doesn't even _love_ you!"

"He does!" Zexion argued right back. "He's told me!"

Peering out of the glass eye-covers in the gas-mask, Demyx stared upon the sight before him with apprehension from his place behind his boyfriend. No doubt anything that flew from his mouth wouldn't be understood. Instead, he watched as people, Hybrids, crowded around. They breathed the neon-green fumes as if it were nothing more than Oxygen. The only assurance the human had was Zexion's hand wrapped in his.

"I did this for his own good."

"For his good or for Zack's?" Tension passed through the room at this comment. "I know, he was your brother, but what does that have to do with us?"

"He won't survive the new world- not with your sham of a relationship based on Mako addiction and his handicap of- of, what do they call it? Humanity?" He laughed. "Oh how the gods laugh."

Demyx's face twisted. "What's Mako addiction?" he whispered, forgetting that whatever he said might be twisted by the mask. Oddly enough, it came out loud and clear. Marluxia laughed, earning a scowl from the smaller Hybrid.

"Give it time, my Cloaked Schemer," he hissed. "He'll learn of you and this affection will turn to anger, disappointment, and hate."

"I learned of him," the boy replied simply, drawing the eyes of the crowd all at once as his voice caught. Clearing it, he faced the man with his head held high. "I learned of him and I still love him."

The man laughed at this, too. "Give it time" the man repeated, "and he'll be begging for death."

They left together, then, oddly enough, leading out of the doors and into freezing winter air. Demyx was loaded into the back of a jeep, which tossed him around like a rag doll, but allowed him a full view of a green, glowing city, already stained by the Mako. Dead bodies littered the ground: children, adults, teenagers- no one he recognized. To distract himself, he turned to Zexion, who held the book he'd given him what seemed like so long ago. Asking for the book, he tried to distract himself by reading, but the one time he looked up out of boredom he spied a familiar face.

Hayner lay limp in a snow bank, arms and legs unnaturally positioned, skateboard several feet away. There was no one around him, and his neck was twisted sideways in a way that implied it had been snapped. The snow about him was stained green from the airborne Mako, but where the boy's mouth was there was a trail of red that left the blond nauseous. He hadn't seen that coming; hadn't seen _any_ of this coming.

Yes; at some point between leaving the conference room and arriving at a warehouse that would soon be turned into a lab, he figured out that the white of snow wouldn't return.

_fin_

…

**Quiz: What is the origin of the line "I specifically ordered you not to get carried away!" (Winners will be celebrated in chapter 1 of ****Plain Sight****.)**

**Chapter 6 Winners: What do you think? No one! XD**

**End Notes: Who was surprised by the ending? I dunno- I made it totally obvious to myself, but I'm the writer, so...**

**Thank you all for your support throughout the story! It's been- what?- a year and two months since I posted that first chapter of ****Return****? Not even the re-write; I'm talking the original! So many of you have stuck around, though thick and thin (hiatus, fanfiction's occasional errors, my computer randomly crashing and deleting my work, etc.,) and we've finally reached the end… Thank you. All of you. Thank you to reviewers, to Dystopian Hope and Clarrolx for being my very patient main and back-up betas, and to all who generally read, even though you didn't review.**

**Now, off to the sequel!**

**Love, **

**Besieged Infection**


End file.
